In my last blog post entitled "Re: When We Assume... We're Just Like Everyone Else..." I answered a letter from someone, who calls himself Waterfall, who was dating and had had sex with someone without that person telling them beforehand that they were HIV positive. I took an issue with that, not so much with the fact that the person didn't tell him but moreso with the fact that when he did finally reveal it to him he chose to do it via text message. (I know, how classy?) If you haven't already, before you go on I suggest that you read that blog post just to get yourself up to speed.

Probably moreso here there than with anything else I've written I put a lot of care into writing that blog post. I wanted to make sure that I didn't come off as self-righteous, arrogant, or condescending. although the HIV negative person, Waterfall had written to me I wanted to take both sides into account. As usual I gave an example from my own life as I'd been in his shoes before, having someone who I was dating tell me that they were positive, post-sex, except my person did it the "right" way (I'll explain the "right" way later). I even went so far as to ask friends of mine who are HIV positive to proofread my response and they were cool with it. Judging from you, the readers, your subsequent responses I pretty much thought I was doing aight. That is until I received the response below which I decided to take the time to reply back to in it's own blog post. Here it is:

Morning, y'all.

I'm sorry, but I have to step in here, and speak up for the guy on the other side. I myself am positive so I definitely think I can impart some insight into what may have been going through the older guy's mind that apparently Adam and the others here have little sympathy for.

I will say that I agree mostly with the opinions stated here, regarding what you should do.

I do want to say, however, that I don't believe that Adam's summative advice is the right way to handle this. I don't think you should just "drop him."

I would tell you to put yourself in his shoes, which I feel a lot of people don't do. As someone with HIV, I COMPLETELY understand his lack of desire to tell you. It is the worst thing to have to tell someone, ESPECIALLY because you have no idea how they may respond. It takes quite a bit of gauging before you decide to let someone know that. While I think Adam is trying to empathize with you, I really don't think he would go around telling people as freely as I believe he expects this man to.

Without going on a huge rant, my advice to you (if you feel like you had a connection with him) is to TALK TO HIM!! I will agree with Adam and the other posters regarding the text. I think that's the most tasteless way to reveal a secret like that, but I completely understand why he may not have told you in person.

I myself TRY not to have sex with my intended suitors without revealing that to them, but the stigma associated with the disease (despite the numbers) is still very much rampant.

I honestly believe that this man really likes you, and I'm sure that's why he even bothered telling you in the first place, and to follow Adam's advice and just drop him because he didn't include it in his self-introduction is trite...and predictable, and only goes to illustrate why HIV+ folks DON'T reveal who they are... because of responses like that.

To conclude, I think a conversation is necessary. You should also definitely go get tested, consider this: if the man didn't care about you, he wouldn't have told you at all.

-S. Austin

Hey S,

Ummm wow, judging from your response here you obviously didn't read my intial response it all. It seems as though you anxiously skimmed through it looking for an opportunity to respond to the contrary. The part of your reply that alarms me most is when you said:

"I honestly believe that this man really likes you, and I'm sure that's why he even bothered telling you in the first place, and to follow Adam's advice and just drop him because he didn't include it in his self-introduction is trite...and predictable, and only goes to illustrate why HIV+ folks DON'T reveal who they are... because of responses like that."

Nowhere did I ever say that anyone who is HIV positive should include ithat information in their introduction to people, as though they should carry it on business cards and shit. And I certainly didn't say that Waterfall should drop the guy just because he has HIV. What I said in the original post was quite the opposite. I said:

"...And you can't realistically expect someone to tell any and everybody that they have HIV upon first glance. 'Hey I'm Adam, how are you?' 'Great. I'm Tommy and I have HIV.' It just don't work like that. So your reasoning for not dating him shouldn't be based on the fact that he has HIV."

What's trite and predictable is the fact that you came ready to oppose what I'd written when you abviously hadn't read it. You also say:

"I myself am positive so I definitely think I can impart some insight into what may have been going through the older guy's mind that apparently Adam and the others here have little sympathy for."

and

"While I think Adam is trying to empathize with you, I really don't think he would go around telling people as freely as I believe he expects this man to."

In the original post I told a story about someone who I was going to hook up with who ended up revealing to me that he was HIV positive. Regarding that experience I said:

"I mean, think about how hard that must have been for him. In the heat of the moment, we're getting it in (or at least I was about to), for him to stop things, to say that he was positive, to tell a total stranger the most intimate detail of his life. What if I had wiled out and tried to kill him or something? What if I was the errant homo who had decided to tell all his business to everybody? He did me a favor in letting me know his status, but it was really my responsibility to take precautions for my health's sake. I mean, yeah he coulda never told me, but I never asked either. If I had caught HIV from him that day it'd essentially be my fault because I failed to protect myself.

I also had an experience just like what happened to Waterfall with someone who told me that he was HIV positive after we'd had sex. Regarding that experience I said:

"I was right in your shoes a few years ago. Slept with someone on the first day I met them for them to tell me later that they were positive. The difference between my person and your person is that my person took the time to sit me down and tell me in person and didn't have sex with me again until he told me. Because he was so forthright the way he went about telling me, I wasn't mad at all. I wasn't mad because he told me after we hooked up and started seeing each other, not after we started seeing each other for a few weeks and had sex and he sure as hell ain't send me no damn text message...."

That doesn't sound very unsympathetic to the HIV positive person to me, either one of them.

Then you said:

"Without going on a huge rant, my advice to you (if you feel like you had a connection with him) is to TALK TO HIM!! "

and

"To conclude, I think a conversation is necessary... consider this: if the man didn't care about you, he wouldn't have told you at all."

Bullshit. If the nigga could fuck Waterfall in person, he could talk to him in person. Waterfall was not in a one night stand, wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am with this guy, they were dating, talking, whatever for a few weeks, seeing each other. This guy says he cared about Waterfall and then he's gonna send him a text message? I mean c'mon now. Being that I was in the same situation as Waterfall makes me even more angry about it. My person gave me enough credit as a decent human being to come to my face and tell me, that's a major part of the reason why I was okay with it. If he had sent me a text message it would've been a different story. The guy obviously didn't want a conversation because if he did he did want a conversation he would have started one and not sent a text message!

As far as the whole if he didn't care he wouldn't have told him thing, that's the smelliest bullshit of all. I think that the only reason why he told Waterfall anything was because his conscience was eating at him and he decided to take the easy and the selfish way out. Think about it, in this technological day and age what's the easiest, quickest way of telling someone something difficult without having to deal with the drama and repercussions behind it? You send it in a text message. If he's mad, if he cries, if he asks you a whole bunch of questions you don't feel like answering, you don't have to deal with it as you can simply stop texting. But in the back of your mind when your conscience starts fucking with you you can always say, 'well at least I told him'. I mean, c'mon you can't see that shit? You don't send news like that via text if you really care about the person you're sending it to, you just don't, that's so disrespectful. It's like breaking up with someone via text, I'm guilty of it. The times I did it I did it not particularly caring about how the other person felt or really wanting to hear what they had to say about it I just wanted things to be over. Notice there are a lot of "I" statements here, further illustrating the selfishness of this act. So once again I must reiterate that the whole if he didn't care he wouldn't have told him thing is bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. If he really cared he wouldn't have told him that way. In my opinion that person certainly isn't someone that Waterfall should be with and really the other guy shouldn't be with anyone at all right now as he has a lot of things he needs to straighten regarding himself and his status.

Now S, I can go on all day talking about how wrong and misinformed your reply was but that's not what's important. The one thing you said that was important was the fact that we do need to have a conversation about this, we all do. So many of us are engaging in sex, knowingly and unknowingly infecting and being infected with all kinds of things, not just HIV, every day and no one is talking about it and what good is that gonna do?

To be honest, in writing this whole thing I had reservations about even telling my stories. For a moment I feared what telling my experiences with sexual partners who were HIV positive might make people think of me. But then I thought about the fact that CDC numbers are saying that almost half of us (black gay men) already have the virus, a good portion of us not even knowing it. That brought me to the realization that my silence wouldn't help anyone and if so many of us have the virus then I can't be the first one to have experienced what I've experienced. Although, I'm HIV negative today, who's to say that I haven't been with or will be with someone else who's positive? If I were I would want that person to feel like they could be open and honest and be able to tell me. Hopefully answering letters like this, sharing my stories and having these conversations can help us all be a little open, open to tell, open to listen, open to accept and open to take proper precautions.

As far as the "right" way to sit down and tell someone that you have HIV is concerned, there really is no right or wrong way. As a person who has had a partner tell me that they were HIV positive I feel that the only wrong way is not to be honest about it, although being honest about it via text message doesn't go over too well either. HIV ain't easy and neither is love, but if you say you love and/or care about somebody sometimes you are gonna have to tell them things that may hurt their feelings or make them mad or just things that they just simply don't wanna hear, but that's love. You'd have to have confidence that their love/care for you goes beyond what you're going to reveal to them. In a perfect world we could say that an HIV positive person just shouldn't have sex with anyone until they've divulged their status to every partner they ever get with and that HIV negative people should always ask every partner they are with what their HIV status is right away to avoid any problems later. Is that ideal, yes, realistic, no, the world is far from perfect. If you have HIV and you get with somebody on a long term basis most likely you are going to eventually have to tell them, better sooner than much later and there's just no getting around that. That is what it is. On the other hand for those of us who are negative there's only but so mad we can get about the answer to a question that we never bothered to ask.

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Playing In The Background...
"I Want To Know What Love is"
by Mariah Carey
from the album "Memoirs Of An Imperfect Angel"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 02:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

**SINGS** "It's my birthday so you know I want to r-i-i-ide out..."

It's my birthday and just like my last birthday I'm newly single. Yeah, it sucks. What sucks is dating. I hate dating. Guys suck, and not in the good way. You meet a guy, you waste all this time talking to him, meeting him, regaling him with all of your first date stories and anecdotes, all for him to stop calling or not show up when he said he was or to find some little thing about him that you don't like that would then make you the one who's disinterested. What a waste of time. Guys are wack.

Being involved with someone for as long as I was really made me forget how tragic dating can be. I'm not trying to be jaded or anything but after awhile you just wonder, why should I even bother with this shit? Ugh.

So now it's my birthday today and not only do I not have a man in my life I don't even have any plans after work. I'm so over it. No birthday sex for me today. It's like that episode of Sex And The City where Carrie turns 35. You know the last scene when their in the coffee shop and she admits to the girls that she wishes that she had a special man in her life to spend the day with. I feel ya sister.

I mean I guess I'm gonna be okay. It's 5am and the day is just beginning. I'm sure by the time I get off work one of my friends will have stepped up to the plate and to take me out for a drink or something. I got my friends, I got my blog and when all else fails I got my gin. And when I get down to the bottom of the gin bottle I've always got King Jesus and like Vickie says "Long as I got King Jesus, I don't need nobody else..."

I ain't gon' lie, sometimes my days get a little lonely but I know I'm never alone.

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Playing In The Background...
"Birthday Sex"
by Jeremih
from the album "Jeremih"
and
"Long As I Got King Jesus"
by Vickie Winans
from the album "Live In Detroit"
and
"Never Alone"
by Walter Hawkins & the Love Center Choir
from the album "Love Alive II"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 05:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

O, wretched dick of mine The trouble thou has put me in
O, wretched dick of mine How thou hast caused me to sin...

Last night I did something I hadn't done in a while, I went out to a club. I've never really been one to go out to the clubs much, I'm actually much more of a homebody, believe it or not, but a good friend was having a thing and I like, had to go so I went. Me walking into a crowded club is like a soldier walking onto a mine field, both of us having to tread lightly. So many reminders of my checkered past, the mistakes I've made, the wrongs I've done, so many faces not to look directly into. I've been here before, but it's different now, mostly because I'm different, I'm a little older. I'm not perfect, but I've learned from my mistakes.

I saw an old friend, let's call him Tom, I mean we weren't like, bff's or nothin' but we were pretty cool about two years ago. That is until I messed around with his ex-boyfriend, we'll call him Eric, like two days after they broke up. Yeah, it was fucked up, but at the time it was what I wanted and Eric wanted it too, so I did it. I rationalized my actions by reminding myself of how I knew that Tom used to chronically cheat on Eric, to the point of ridiculousness and honestly I kinda felt bad for the kid, I mean in all actuality, Tom deserved the shit, but he didn't deserve it from me. And at the end of the day, who am I to dole out the punishments of karma? I'm not God. I rationalized even further by thinking to myself that Tom probably would have done the same thing to me too if given the opportunity, and there's no doubt he would have, but that still doesn't make it right. Me and Tom socialize in different circles, but we still have quite a few mutual friends. Upon seeing him it's like we went into the awkward dance around each other. We both saw each other and knew that each other were there, we were standing next to one another at one point, yet no salutations were exchanged. Being the pretty confrontational person that I am there is nothing worse than this. I hate the awkward dance. Being the one that was wrong of course it was my place to make the first move toward reconciliation. Unfortunately a crowded club is the absolute worst place to do such a thing. What am I supposed to do, yell "HEY TOM! I'M SO SORRY FOR MESSING AROUND ERIC LIKE I DID. IT WAS REALLY FUCKED UP!" as he speakers blare "Birthday Sex"? It's just not an environment conducive to communication of that depth. And at the end of the day, you know, what's "sorry" gonna do? It ain't gon' take back a thing. I mean, Tom can never trust me again. I've been in the same situation, in Tom's place, having worn similar, but more fashionable, shoes and I'd never trust that ex-friend either. I guess the damage is done.

Then there's the one night stands and the fuck-and-never-call-backs. Some may say, 'Oh that Adam, he's been in more manholes that Con Edison' or 'Oh, that Adam, you need to watch him'. And I mean, hey those people, they're right. There was definitely a sluttier time in my life, I can't say that I was the sluttiest, there are people that certainly have me beat, but I'm no angel. Last night I saw this guy I met who's personality wasn't really all of that to me, he was actually kind of annoying, but he had a really phat ass and I just wanted to fuck him, so I did and then I was over it and I never called him back. Then there was this other guy that I thought was okay, then my friend who had messed around with him too said that he was gross, so after fucking him twice I stopped calling him too. It's just like damn, what the fuck do you say to these people? I really kinda wanted to walk up to these three people who I'd wronged and say "I'm sorry" But, can you really just do that or do we do what we always do, move on and awkwardly cut people from our lives making our social circles and chance interactions more and more cantankerous by the day?

Ultimately, all of these situations have come out of simply thinking with my dick. When we're horny and just wanna fuck we will just do any and everything to get what it is we want with no thought of the future, and whose feelings we hurt. That dude with the phat ass, like, I schemed for that shit, putting all the right pieces into place just so I could hit that. That was so fucked up. I look back at it all and realize that none of it was truly worth it and having been a person who's been hurt before it really tears at my heart to know that I could have possibly hurt someone else. Everything bad thing we do in life has it's own set of counterbalancing consequences so consequentially I can pretty much look forward to a few more awkward club nights in the future.

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Playing In The Background...
"So Good"
by Electrik Red
from the album
"How To Be A Lady, Vol. 1"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

Think about the person you are currently loving, or the one you used to love, remember when you first met 'em, before all the bullshit, that is of course if there is or was bullshit in your relationship, if there isn't or wasn't just ignore that part. But anyway, can you remember the first time you spoke to them on the phone? After they gave you their number at a club or online or you took it from a bathroom wall, you know, however you got it (no judgment), remember the tinge of nervousness in your stomach as you dialed their number for the first time, hoping you copied their shit right, or if they wrote it that it's their real number and not Kentucky Fried Chicken, even though a two piece and a biscuit is always lovely.

Remember that slight feeling of nervous euphoria when they finally answered the phone after all those seemingly endless rings, or when their mama passed them the phone after all those seemingly endless rings, or however they got to the phone. Remember telling them that you think that they look good and them telling you that you look good and you smiling all big and them smiling all big and although neither of you can see each other smiling you still know you're smiling? Remember that nervous activity you performed while you guys were on the phone, twirling the phone cord around your finger, doodling on a piece of paper, biting your nails? Remember how you tried your best to sound sexy, deepening your voice so you could sound more masculine or softening your voice so you could sound more fem? Remember how you both flirtatiously talked about sex, while not really talking about sex, using all kinds of double entendre?

Remember when things were new and all the possibilities in the world were possible? It's nice to go back sometimes. Ask that person you love today about how they were feeling and what they were doing during that first phone call.

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Playing In The Background...
"Newness"
by Musiq Soulchild
from the album "Juslisen"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

Eventually, during the course of every relationship it would seem that it's participants would eventually settle into some sort of routine. He likes this so I do that, I like this so he does that, we watch this on Wednesdays, that on Thursdays, I DVR that on Friday nights because he never gets to watch it because he works late, we always eat at this restaurant when we're in Chelsea, that one when we're in the Flatiron, the other one when we're in Brooklyn, and so on. We're open to trying new things but never to the detriment of our old stand-bys. Although our romantic relationship is new, Chester and I seem to have already fallen into a routine. It seems pretty accelerated, but not really. Chester and I haven't just met, we've known each other for years now and as of late our friendship and mutual respect and attraction for each other has evolved into what we have now.

Being a Leo, and just being me, I'm a lover of security. I like to know, what's going to happen next and what I'm going to do next and how those I love are feeling concerning me. I'm not a total planner though, I'm spontaneous, but even my spontaneity is somewhat calculated. In my life there have been very few people that I can actually count on, so I treasure those who I can. I hoard them. In an opposite way, people can pretty much count on me. I'm even tempered that way, I'm dependable, most of my life I've always been the same. I'm not moody and I can't stand a moody bitch. If I love you, I'm gonna always love you as long as you don't fuck things up with me. And even if you do, I'm not mean to you. I just know that I can no longer trust you and I deal with you as such, cordially, yet still excommunicating you from my inner circle. In everything I always aim to be amicable, but sometimes, unfortunately full amicability is impossible, but in everything, I lean toward the most conspicuous, least dramatic responses to those types of situations.

Thankfully, none of this is a worry with ol' Chet. Chester is one of the few people I can count on. He's a Sagittarius, the natural companion to a Leo and he's not moody. If I go to sleep with him loving me I can count waking up with him feeling the same way. It sounds like a simple concept in theory, but in dealing with the homosexuals I've dealt with over the years it's quite a feat.

Like I was saying before we've fallen into a routine and I love it. They say variety is the spice of life but I like my life a little bland and dependable. Spice is overrated. We work during the week and I'll go to his house or him to mine most nights after our long respective workdays. We usually watch something we've DVR-ed on TV and end up falling asleep in each other's arms, usually still in our clothes. On Friday nights we go out for drinks and then to a movie, or dinner. Thankfully, we like most of the same kind of movies and cuisine and even when we disagree, we're both still pretty agreeable. On Saturdays we chill in the house and take care of our respective errands together, haircuts, trips to the supermarket, etc. Sundays are a continuation of that. Our average weekend would go something like this:

Friday night: Drinks with friends, a movie and/or dinner, come home, fall asleep
Saturday: Wake up, fuck, go back to sleep, get haircuts, go to the gym, watch tv, mess around and/or fuck, go to sleep
Sunday: Wake up, talk, go back to sleep, fuck, watch tv, sleep some more, run some type of errand, watch tv, talk about what we watched, mess around and/or fuck, go to sleep

There are some variations but that's pretty much it. This is basically the same stuff we did as friends with a little of fucking sprinkled in there for good measure. This weekend we watched a six-part marathon of this eight-part series on the History Channel entitled, "The Presidents" in which they chronicle the life of each president from George Washington to George W. Bush. His favorite presidents are Thomas Jefferson, Andrew Jackson, and John F. Kennedy, mine are Theodore Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson and we both share a jovial admiration for Chester A. Arthur, the party boy president from New York. A few of you may be surprised that we didn't mention Abraham Lincoln, he was no James Buchanan, but he's still not all he was cracked up to be, that Abe.

I know, we're boring as hell, but I love it. We take solace in and cherish being together, doing the little things. We entertain each other, learning and getting to know him better is such a joy in itself. We have a great time just talking for hours, debating about things, life and history and such. We don't always agree, we have had to agree to disagree on a few issues, but it's no big deal. I don't need a big production to be with him and neither does he with me. We can just chill in the house and it's all good. The beauty of routine is not letting external things determine the way you feel about someone. It's going to bed and waking up and knowing that he's gonna be right where you left him, it's finishing each other's sentences, it's being able to close my eyes and fall back knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he will catch me. It's beautiful.

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Playing In The Background...
"You Complete Me"
by Keyshia Cole
from the album "A Different Me"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

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Pictures:
- Me standing outside the Morris-Jumel Mansion.
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So, it's been a while since I've said this, but I'm dating a new guy. Sure I've dated a little since the last guy that I told you all about, but it's been nothing substantial, nothing worth writing a blog about. So to pass the time I've been writing about random shit, events, music and giving advice. It's all been good, but that personal element was somewhat missing. The Carrie Bradshaw-esque, dating and sex in New York City thing that I started my blog doing. It's been a long while since I've added a new recurring character to the story, this blog, which is my life. For those of you who are relatively new to the blog you missed the days when I used to write about every date I went on and when the people I dated became such a major part of the blog that my readers would ask and talk about them by name, well, by pseudonym. I never gave up real names.

The Saturday before last I went out on a date with Chester, although we're dating I couldn't quite say this was an official date because it was so impromptu. We were in Washington Heights at his barber getting haircuts and I realized that the Morris-Jumel Mansion was nearby. The Morris-Jumel Mansion is the oldest house on the island of Manhattan. It served as a headquarters for both sides in the American Revolution. Chester, like me is somewhat of an American history buff (actually, even more so than me) so I knew that a surprise stop by the mansion was something he'd enjoy, hopefully he hadn't been already.

As we left the barbershop I informed Chester of our detour on the way to the train station. I told him as we turned east on 160th Street that there was something I wanted to show him. Turning north on St. Nicholas Avenue as we approached the stairs at the head of Sylvan Place he exclaimed "Oh wow. I've heard about this place but I've never been." Cool, sigh of relief, he hadn't been here, neither have I. This would be an opportunity for us to learn something together.

This whole thing reminded me of Michael, this guy I used to date back in 2005. I remember having to drag his ass all over Philadelphia to all of the historical sights. If whatever we were doing had nothing to do with Beyonce, he just wasn't into it. He annoyed me so much. It feels nice to finally chill with someone who's into the kind of stuff I'm into, even if it's nerdy. But, i mean, hey I am a nerd at heart.

Inside the house we had a long conversation with the curator there, she'd been working at the house for over forty years. She told us the history of the house and of other buildings in the area. The highlight of our talk was all the Black history she told us about. There is so much Black history in the Harlem/Washington Heights area, even more than we think we know about. She gave us countless addresses of buildings where famous black people of yesteryear lived, buildings we've walked past every single day.

Since we were in the area we also stopped by the site of the Audubon Ballroom on 165th Street and Broadway, the place where Malcolm X was killed, now it's a cultural center. Unfortunately it was closed but through the glass doors we could see that they had erected a statue on the stage right where Malcolm was standing, delivering his last speech. It was so surreal. It reminded me of the movie. At that point I was so ashamed of myself though. I'd been past this building twice before and never paid attention to what it was. I literally walked right past it on the very same side of the street and was never recognizant of all the history that was there. That's the thing about New York, it's an old city (in Western terms that is) that's packed so full of history, so much so that we don't even realize it sometimes.

Needless to say, Chester felt as good about our little impromptu date as I did. It was actually kinda romantic, wandering around a colonial home together on a snowy day, learning stuff with a guy that's just as into it all as I am. I could get used to this.

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Playing In The Background...
"If This Is Love"
by The Saturdays
from the album "Chasing Lights"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

Lawd, when I sit and think of some of the heartache and drama I've gone through at the hands of these nigroes out here... The funny thing about life is that it moves in circles, you reap what you sow, you get what your hand calls for, you get back what you put out there, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera... 2008 has been a really interesting year for me, particularly my personal and romantic life. It seems like every dude who played me out and treated me like shit in my past has somehow managed to slither his way back into my presence this year, it's so funny. Funny because upon seeing them again the first thought to enter my head was 'what the fuck did I ever see in this dude anyway?'

There's this guy, let's call him Mortimer, Mort for short (that rhymed, hehehe, I'm obviously running out of "M" names here). Mort was this guy I met online a while back, we started talking on the phone, we established a rapport, we were talking quite a bit, things were cool. After a while, we finally met up, we slept together, the sex was good. He told me that he hadn't quite cleared up things with his ex (that he was still living with) and that he didn't want anything particularly serious from me, he wanted to keep it casual. Having been in a situation like this before I said: 'Well, you know, I'm good. I'm actually at the point in my life where I'm gonna need a little more, something with the possibility of a future' and I so wasn't gonna carry his ex baggage. So, although I didn't want to because he was so fine and the sex was so good, I know how I am, what I'm looking for, and how potentially attached I can get, so I had to give him up for my heart's sake. He seemed to have respected me for it.

A month or so later he hit me up, telling me that he hadn't stopped thinking about me, that he let the ex thing go, that he's all good with that now and that he wanted to explore the possibility of dating me. I was still on the market and I was still attracted to him, so I said hey, fuck it, why not? So we began to talk again, we chilled again, I cooked him dinner, we had sex, it was great. I walked him to the subway that night and never heard from him again.

Situations like this can fuck up even the best of us, even me. When somebody just stops calling, all out the blue like that you can't help but ask the question, what did I do wrong? You second guess yourself, you doubt. I wondered, was it the ex thing, was it just a sex thing, did he ever even like me in the first place, I mean fuck, what the hell was it? It's a really fucked up situation. I mean, at least if I knew what was going on it'd be like okay. If there were something I could reference this too, like if he was unattracted to me or something, something, anything I could wrap my brain around.

People, the worse thing you can do to someone is to just to up and stop calling them. If you don't want to deal with someone, at least be man or woman or transexual enough to let them know, that goes for me too, 'cuz I've done the shit too. I know it can be annoying, especially when you're over someone, you really don't feel like talking to them anymore, but human to human, you at least owe them that. It's not so much that cowardly act of abruptly ending communication with someone that's so bad, but the subsequent questioning of themselves that can really fuck them up. At least let them know that it's your flaky ass and not necessarily them with the issue. So, needless to say, I was fucked up for a little bit afterward. I sent the proverbial angry text message and needlessly told him to never talk to me again, which for ol' Mort wasn't a daunting feat as he'd already ceased communication with me, but hey it made me feel better at the time. A couple of days later, I was over it.

A few weeks ago, in the middle of the night, four in the morning, he sends me a text with a naked picture that said:

"Just checkin up on u".

The next day I texted him back these five simple words:

"You've gotta be kidding me."

See this is the kinda shit that I don't like. Don't just fucking vanish and reappear sending me some random ass naked pic at four in the morning, like that's gon' make shit okay. Like I'm some type of wilderbeast or caveman or some shit. You wave pussy in my face and I'm supposed to heel like a dog, fuck outta here nigga. He's not the first one to try that shit, using feminine wiles to wild the fuck out. If he wanted to step to me the right way he could have apologized, sans picture and treated me like a fucking person. To the deleted messages folder that shit went.

Like I said, ol' Morty ain't the only one either. I wrote a blog post last year called "Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures... Especially When You Become Desperate..." it was a bout this guy who played me so bad back in the day. In the blog post I called him Person #2. Don't you know Person #2's triflin' ass hit me up earlier this year wanting to see me again. He gave some half-assed apology and I'm not a mean person and I was bored that night so I was like, aight. I met him he was so tired looking. I can't believe that I used to think that he was so fine. He looked so gross and I'm so cute now, it was like ugh. How could I have let someone who looks like that hurt me the way her did? Okay, yes that was shallow, but it was a breakthrough for me, okay?

Then there was Michael from my blog post "Friendship, F**kery, Philanthropy & Philandery In Philadelphia...". Michael ass was tryna holla too. After looking at the pictures on his BGC page and his MySpace I was like damn, what the fuck did I ever see in you? Why the hell was I so in love with him and why the fuck did I let him treat me the way he did? Oh yes, because it's not about them, it's about us. Deborah Cox put it best in her song "Starting With You" when she said "He's only gonna treat you the way he knows he can. It's all up to you my sister to show him that he can't..." and she's absolutely right. Let's not put our power in the hands of someone else, the reason why we're in any fucked up relationship, friendship or cruise ship is because we are allowing ourselves to be there. Anyway, the shit was funny to me. It was like damn, three years ago I was head over heels for this dude and now I wouldn't even walk down the street with his ass, crazy huh?

These three situations we're some of the most significant but there have been a litany of other triflin' ass ex dates that I run into at a club or on the street or online this year who have tried to wiggle their way back into my good graces, some literally throwing themselves at me and it's just like why? I thought I wasn't shit so why the fuck are you in my face now? It's funny. I say "Hi.", dryly answer their inquiries as to what I'm doing with my life now and I keep it moving. Wish 'em all the best but I'm in a different place now. I've transcended those people. They've come around so often now that I have a name for them. I call 'em "boomerang bitches" 'cuz they always come back. You threw me away, but you're the one coming back? Funny.

I've said all of that to say this my friends. I know that it's hard right now. It hurts that that dude, that girl did you wrong. I feel your pain. I know better than just about anybody how it feels to cry and not feel like you even wanna go on, especially now during the holidays. I have never had a boyfriend on Christmas before and that's okay. I know what it's like to be so into someone and have them just suddenly stop calling you and how it feels to torture yourself with the questions the and self doubt. I know what it's like to be all the way down.

It's cliche I know, but the cool thing about being all the way down is that you have nowhere to go but up. I promise you that it's gonna get better. I know that because it got better for me. Cry your tears, let it out, but stay strong, stay on your grind, find comfort in your friends and family, channel your anger into your work. That's what I do, especially with this blog. I personally get so much out of writing this blog, y'all give me so much, y'all don't even realize. I treasure all of the letters and correspondence I get from y'all and it's gotten me through so many hard times. Y'all are such a gift to me.

Not that this anything you have to worry about, but if you keep on living, everybody who did you wrong will get it back. Either you'll see them again a month, a year, two years later once you're strong and over it (yes, I now it sounds crazy now, but you'll eventually get over it) and more than likely you'll ask yourself, what the hell you were doing with that person in the first place or someone will put them through what they put you through, both outcomes will set the universe at an equilibrium, but let God take care of that. He'll work it out much better than you can.

Merry Christmas!

==========
Playing In The Background...
"You Had Your Chance"
by Mariah Carey
from the album "Charmbracelet"
and
"Go Ahead With All That"
by Chante Moore
from the album "Exposed"
and
"Damn"
by Vivian Green
from the album "Vivian"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 10:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

It's almost 2am and I'm just finished my nightly ritual of watching porn on Nubian101 and jerking off before bed. In my video of choice tonight I noticed that the bottom was yet another ex date of mine. Damn, another one, another one bites the dust. That brings my tally up to six now. I wrote a blog post about this a little over a month ago when I discovered the fifth person and now this the sixth, this is crazy.

This one though, was different than the other five. Me and him never had sex. In fact, when I was trying to hit it like two years ago he was on some 'Oh I don't get down like that! I don't give it up quick like that!' shit and he stopped calling me. Now I see him getting the life fucked out of him by some porn dude and he could suck a mean dick too. Go figure. Just this past summer he'd got back in contact with me and was trying to get close to me again and I kept brushing his ass off. If I was so inclined I probably coulda beat, scratch that, I know I coulda beat. Dudes, they say one thing out of one hole and do something else with the other. Ain't that some shit?

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Racey Lacey"
by Girls Aloud
from the album "Chemistry"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

I started out doing this, this blog in February 2007, as a chronicle of my search for love. As of late I haven't quite been searching for love. In fact, I haven't been looking for anything and then whatever has just happened to come around I haven't been too excited about either. Nowadays I'm just really indifferent. Nigga stay, nigga leave, don't matter to me.

Things that used to really make me really happy just don't do it anymore. I've been out on a few dates and have met a few guys lately but none of them, as lovely as they are haven't been able to hold my interest. The best date I've had in weeks was me at home alone, eating two fried chicken breasts, dirty rice, a biscuit, and a Hi-C mixed with lime seltzer water watching a DVR-ed episode of "90210" (my new favorite show) from earlier in the week. It was pure bliss, more fun than I've had with a date in ages. I laughed, I gasped, I talked to the TV all by my damn self, having the time of my life. What is wrong with me?

Even the gym, something I used to hate has become fun to me. I've actually been canceling and postponing dates just to go to the gym when before I'd try to find any reason I could for not going. I'll be up in the gym, benchpressing, with the new Girls Aloud album blasting on my iPod, silently singing along and everything, having the time of my life, all by myself. That's how I've spent all my Friday nights for the past month and that's just how I plan to spend tonight as well. The crazy thing is that it's absolutely fine with me. I'm kinda looking forward to it.

I've had a few non-sexual sleepovers in the past few weeks. I remember this time last year longing for someone to cuddle with and share my bed with, even going as far as getting myself a "cuddle-buddy" for the holiday season. Cuddling up when we slept was one of my favorite things about having a boyfriend. Why is it that lately whenever a guy stays over and wants to cuddle up on me and lay on my chest and grind their ass up on me and spoon and all that lovey-dovey shit, my ass can't sleep! He's knocked out and I'm up half the night, over it. Dying for morning to come so he can go home and I can get some real sleep. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Even sex seems to have lost it's lustre. Jumpoffs and people I know are just coming over for the dick have been hitting me up and I haven't been hitting them back. And this guy who I met up with and stayed over once last week, we had a really hot, everything but session, like you know, doing everything but sex. It was really hot and when I invited him over again two days later at my first glance of him I just wasn't into him anymore and wished that he'd just turn around and go home, but it was late and cold, and raining and I invited him. It wasn't him, it was me. I was just all of a sudden over it. Then there was this other guy, who I made the mistake of initially meeting by going on a date with first before having him come over and chill first (I'll tell you why I don't go out on dates with guys before chilling with them behind closed doors first in a later post. There's a method to my madness, I promise.) and once I got him alone at my house I realized that I wasn't attracted to him and I wanted him to go home, but it was late and I invited him too. And hooking up, hell no. I'm so over meeting these monster-lookin' niggas online. They're obviously not all monsters online, I mean hey, I'm online too (more as a means of entertainment nowadays), but many of them do abound.

On a side note. Anybody who's a little too thirsty to get fucked scares the hell out of me. I know we all got needs but damn, curb that shit. Even if you end up giving it to me on the first night at least make a nigga think that it's a little bit of a challenge. Make me feel special. Damn. And any of y'all bottoms out there with open hole ass pics on your online profiles, yuk! That shit is just fucking gross. If that's you, cut that shit out! We get it, you like dick and that's okay, but there's no need to take it all the way there. I'm actually not one for posting any naked pics online anymore. I used to be legendary for posting dick shots in seasons past, some shots I've heard are still circulating, but that's a whole 'nother blog post (No, seriously it is. I have a story to tell y'all). It's crazy, but some of my most gratifying sex lately has been with just me and my hand. When did I become such a prude?

I'm not sure what's come over me lately and I can't say it's necessarily a bad thing. While I am a little concerned that my need for sex and romantic affection has been waning, I must say that not fiending to be with some nigga feels damn good for a change.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"I Am Changing"
by Jennifer Hudson
from the "Dreamgirls Movie Soundtrack"
and
"Sexy! No No No..."
by Girls Aloud
from the album "Tangled Up"
and
"Moratorium"
by Alanis Morrisette
from the album "Flavors Of Entanglement"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 09:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

A few years ago I met this guy online, let's call him Thomas. Thomas and I talked online for a while, exchanging pleasantries, being flirtatious, being sexual. We exchanged numbers and continued to talk every so often. One sunny afternoon out of the blue Thomas calls me and says that him and his friend are in my area and that I should be outside in fifteen minutes. I told him that I would need more time than that to get ready. I was meeting him in person for the first time and I wanted to make a good impression. He insisted that it wasn't necessary and that he had only just thrown himself together so there was no need for me to do anything extravagant. I jumped up and tried my best to get somewhat ready in such a minimal time.

After having them outside waiting in the back of my building for about about fifteen minutes, fifteen more than the fifteen I was originally supposed to be ready in, I got to the car. Thomas stepped out of the passengers seat of the car onto the cracked sidewalk, we shook hands. He was attractive, cute even, he looked better than his pictures and he was definitely right about not being put together. He had on an old ratty looking t-shirt, some sweats and some flip flops. As messed up as his outfit was it took nothing away from his looks though. Upon entering the car I greeted his friend as well. Thomas looked back, smiled and asked me why I was so well put together. He reiterated the fact that he said over the phone that I didn't have to do anything special. Then he asked me was that why I was took so long. I have to admit I was a little embarrassed, but it was cool though. His queries were all in fun.

We drove around for a while as Thomas' friend was running various local errands. During the ride I was pretty much silent in the backseat. I was just passively listening to their conversation and watching their dynamic. I like to watch friends, especially best friends, interact with each other, there's nothing like it. These two were definitely best friends. Every so often they would look back at me just to make sure I was still alive.

We ended up going back to Thomas' friend's apartment. His apartment was very nicely decorated. You could tell that a gay man lived there. After sitting on the couch a while Thomas declared that he was taking a shower. As he walked toward the bathroom he grabbed my hand and I followed him. We got into the bathroom and as soon as the door closed behind us we grabbed at each other like animals, kissing, fondling and grabbing at each other ravenously. We eventually got out of our clothes and made it to the shower where our foreplay continued, hot and heavy in the steam of the running water. Right when I was about to enter him he stopped me.

"Adam, stop. I can't do this..."

"What's wrong?"

"I can't do this..."

"Why?"

"I'm positive."

I couldn't breathe. I stood naked with my back up against the moist tiled wall, my head spinning like a centrifuge. Here I was about to fuck this dude with no condom (as most people don't exactly keep them on the soap dish). What was so crazy was that I pretty much knew I was gonna get some that day and I had condoms and lube on me in my jacket. I just never bothered to go get them. It would have ruined the mood and the spontaneity of the moment. In all this time I never even bothered to ask what his status was. It never even came up in all of our prior conversation. This was the first time in all of my fucking around that I was confronted with HIV. I never really talked about it much before. I knew my status, I'd been tested, but I never really discussed it much with my partners. He continued.

"I want to. I really want to but. I had to let you know. You're such a nice guy."

"Wow, how did this happen?"

In retrospect I see what a dumb ass question that was for me to ask, but I asked anyway. He proceeded to tell me that he pretty much knew who he contracted the virus from and that he tried to confront that person but the person moved to another state and changed their phone number. He said that his best friend, the one in the living room was one of the only people who knew. With a little sass in his voice he also said:

"Oh, and don't think that I'm the only one. If you're out here fucking around I know I'm not the first person who you've run into who has the virus. I'm just the first to tell you."

With sex, but a distant memory, we finished our shower, in silence. I wasn't angry, or scared, or disgusted by him or anything like that. I knew better, I knew the facts, I knew that HIV wasn't just gonna jump on me just because I was in the shower with him. I wasn't necessarily done with him either, he was a really cool person and HIV wasn't gonna change that. I was just sober, soberly thinking about all the fucking around I'd done, all the possibilities, how fucked up that person was who infected Thomas and just ran away and how Thomas didn't even have to tell me about his status, it's not as though I asked. I also wondered exactly why he told me. It was all just so crazy, he was so young, so good looking, he didn't look sick, he wasn't in a hospice with tubes running out of his body. He was nothing like I imagined HIV to be, he was like, like me.

We dried off and went back into the living room the friend was sitting on the couch like nothing happened. I guess from his perspective nothing did happen. He wasn't in the shower. We got dressed and ended up back in the friend's car. As we drove around I sat in the back of the car in uncertainty until Thomas asked:

"What train station do you wanna be dropped off at?"

They dropped me off at the train station. We said our goodbyes and I never heard from Thomas again. The scariest thing about that story had nothing to do with Thomas but everything to do with me. I totally let sex cloud my better judgment that day. I knew so much better than to do what I was gonna do but almost did it anyway. He had to be the one to stop me from protecting ME. How sick is that? Not being able to trust yourself to do what you know is best for yourself, that's scarier than anything else that happens on Halloween.

I remember sharing this story with my one of best friends about a year after it happened. We were sitting in the Village talking about life and the virus and it's effect on our community. We also talked about the 46% statistic, which now I heard is up to 48%. I told him that with statistics like that it's like it's either me or you now. Any one of us is can be one test away from a positive result. That's one of the reasons why I am never one to judge. We can get tested and we can take all of the necessary precautions and not be promiscuous of course but if you've ever been sexually active there's never any way to be 100% sure. Your test can come back negative today and show up positive a few months from now as HIV can lie dormant in your system before there is enough antibodies of it to be detected by a test.

I'm no doctor and you can always look up the facts from a much more reliable medical source than me but the point I wanted to convey here was that we all need to make better decisions. We also need not judge anyone, especially those with HIV because none of us are exempt. I have friends today with HIV and I love them, respect them, and treat them as I would any other friend and they are all fine, healthy, dating and living their lives as they should be. At times in the midst of all of our fun and day to day living I forget that they even have the virus. They have to remind me at times and that's the way it should be. It's not something I need to dwell on. HIV, as unfortunate as it is is not a death sentence.

Thomas was the first person I ever met with HIV and as dumb as it sounds today, back then I really was shocked at how healthy and quote-unquote "normal" he looked. My experience with Thomas taught me how important it is to be nice to people, all people and to have an aura of openness about myself so people could feel comfortable telling me anything. I actually wish that Thomas would have kept up with me. I tried to correspond with him after that but to no avail. I don't fully understand why he never wanted to talk to me again but I respect his decision. I never got a chance to thank him for that day in the shower. He taught me more than all the sex education classes in the world could have taught me and I'm different today because of it.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"It's O.K."
by BeBe & CeCe Winans
from the album: "BeBe & CeCe Winans Greatest Hits"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 03:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

This has been my romantic life for the last couple of weeks:

Adam meets boy.
Adam and boy talk.
Boy comes to see Adam.
Adam cooks dinner.
Adam and boy have have a good time.
Adam fucks boy.
Adam and boy cuddle.
Boy tells Adam that he'd like to get to know him.
Boy has to leave so Adam walks boy to the train station.
Adam and boy make plans to see each other again.
Adam texts boy.
Boy never texts back.
Adam hasn't heard from boy since.

Adam meets another boy.
Adam and boy talk for a couple of weeks.
Adam and boy have actually known and liked each other for a while but have never made any moves toward each other romantically.
Boy comes to see Adam.
Adam and boy mess around.
Boy sucks Adam's dick.
Adam and boy cuddle.
Boy spends the night.
Adam cooks breakfast.
Adam and boy make plans to see each other again on Sunday.
Boy leaves.
Sunday comes and goes, Adam doesn't hear from boy.

Yeah, so that's it. What's weird about it all is that situations like these don't hurt me as much as they used to. In years or even months past I'd be a basket case, calling and texting trying to find out what happened and what went wrong. Now I don't bother. Situations like this annoy me more than anything. I LOVE honesty and I HATE my time being wasted. If someone only wants sex or a hot meal or a place to stay for the night and is not attracted to me, I'm absolutely fine with them telling me that. Lord knows I'm honest with people about how I'm feeling. I don't have the patience to lead anyone on. At the end of all the day honesty is always the easier choice. If someone told me to my face 'Adam I think you are the ugliest thing on Earth' I'd have more respect for them than if they sat up in my face lying and telling me how cute they think I am. I don't why they stopped calling and at this point I don't care. It is what it is.

The bright side to situations like this is that they tend to make for good blog posts. Being a blogger I tend to think of my life and it's misadventures in terms of blog posts. Something happens and I'm thinking 'this would make for a good blog post' or 'how do I present this situation in a way that makes for an interesting read?' or 'what am I gonna have Playing In The Background... when I write about this?' I'm not sure how healthy that is, but what's tragedy good for if you can't exploit it for your professional benefit? Ask any of our favorite singers, songwriters, poets and writers that question. What has driven a good portion of the most prolific music, art and books of our generation? Pain.

Speaking of pain, rather than wallow in all of this and fall into my rut of emotional eating and beating myself up asking why, as of late I've taken all of that energy and have used it in a much more beneficial way. I've been hitting the gym pretty hard lately. As soon as my mind started to drift into why the second boy hadn't called yesterday I jumped up, put on my sweats and sneakers and headed right to the gym.

Turning 25 has really had an impact on me. I'm not a kid anymore and my metabolism ain't gettin' no better. As I get older I'm realizing that it's gonna take a little effort to stay in shape. It seems like everywhere I look, especially in the New York gay scene filled to the brim with aspiring actor/model types, everyone around me has pecs and abs and what not, especially these kids coming up, the eighteen and nineteen year olds. What the hell are these kids eating nowadays and why didn't anyone feed it to me?

After slightly letting myself go this past summer I begun to look at my body and myself differently. Seeing Madonna, a white woman literally twice my age and five years younger than my mother dance, sing and jump rope across the stage of the Izod Center earlier this month, doing more physically than I could ever dream of without as much as taking a breather, really put things in perspective for me. One of my secret dreams has always been to have the quote-unquote "perfect" body. Perfect for me at least, as perfect is relative. I never wanted to be one of those big muscley guys (I never liked big muscles and yes I made that word up). I've always fancied leaner, more cut up and defined body types. As of late I've been working toward that and it's been working. As always I wanted to share my fortune with you so I decided to post what I call:

Adam's Lazy Man's Guide To Fitness

On average I've been going to gym about five to six times a week lately. Now I'm not one of those people who is just loves to work out and loves the gym. I'd much rather be home watching "90210" eating apple pie and ice cream. I'm no gym rat and Lord knows that with working out there is pain, not horrible gut wrenching pain but pain nevertheless, well actually it's more discomfort than anything else, but as I've started to see results I've learned to appreciate the pain and it becomes worth it. As horrible as going to the gym regularly sounds for a lazy person like me, the more I incorporated it into my regular life I've come to realize that it's not so bad, but this isn't an easy place to get to. I realize that I'm no fitness expert or guru but these are the steps I took to get there. Hopefully I can help out a fellow lazy person.

1. Understand what working out is, what it does and why it does what it does.
2. Make going to the gym as easy and as not a big deal as possible.
3. The only thing we have to fear is fat itself.
4. Understand that "A shitty workout is better than no workout at all."
5. Understand that one of the best things about working out is that it counteracts all of the horrible foods you eat and will make you able to eat them with less consequence.
6. Align yourself with one of those crazy people that actually enjoys working out.

1. Understand what working out is, what it does and why it does what it does.

I've never been one of those "because I said so" people. Whenever one of my parents or someone older than me uttered that inevitable phrase during my childhood as reasoning for me to do something they commanded that I do it often fell upon deaf ears and subsequently a sore behind, but I didn't care. I'm not the type to do shit just to do it, I gotta know why I'm doing it. This carried over to my adulthood. While we know that working out and weightlifting builds muscle and gets people into shape many of don't know why, well at least I didn't. When this was finally broken down to me in a simple yet still cerebral way it all made sense and thus made working out something of interest.

This is how it was broken down to me. Working out basically works like this. To lift weights the body uses its various muscles. When we lift just the right amount of weight that pushes those muscles to their limit, they tear, hence the pain/discomfort/fatigue of working out. When those muscles tear the body naturally rebuilds them, but when the body rebuilds them it rebuilds them bigger and stronger. So if you continually increase the amount the weight you lift over time you continue the process of ripping, tearing and rebuilding the muscles of your body, hence the terms bodybuilding and ripped. Once you're satisfied with your size you won't need to increase the weight you lift. Protein in your diet helps a lot in this process, hence why people who work out are always drinking those nasty-ass protein shake things. For me understanding why and how this whole thing works made it more desirable to do and gave me some kind of direction to go in as far as all this fitness stuff is concerned.

2. Make going to the gym as easy and as not a big deal as possible.

Out of all the rules this is probably the most important for lazy people like us. If working out becomes to complicated we aren't gonna do it. In order to combat the arsenal of excuses I've built up for not going to the gym I've made going to the gym as easy as possible. I joined a gym six blocks from my house. In the past I'd joined gyms that were further away and as a result I found myself not going and the key to the whole gym thing is to go as much as possible. If you can drag your ass there more than likely you'll do something. Just getting to the gym is half the battle.

3. The only thing we have to fear is fat itself.

The gym can be a scary place. It can be pretty overwhelming for a beginner. All those muscular people banging and clanging weights doing all kinds of different exercises on different machines, levers and pulleys moving about as you wonder what its all for. Most gyms offer some kind of personal training assistance for beginners. It's not Hollywood celebrity caliber but it's cool to have to someone show you how all the machines work. Pay attention because when the introductory period of maybe a 45-60 minute session or two is over you're on your own, unless you decide to buy more sessions and that can get really expensive. Plus it's not really all that necessary.

In the beginning don't expect to be "He-Man" or anything, more than likely your lazy ass won't be able to lift as much as the gym regulars. My tip for beginners is to use the machines instead of free weights and be sure to read the directions on them before attempting them, also watch other people use them before you try them out. Your first trial on or with anything should be on the lowest possible weight setting just so you can get the movement together. After that find a weight that's mildly uncomfortable but that you can still move. You're just starting out so don't set crazy unrealistic goals for yourself. Pick a weight that you can move 10-12 times. The last few repetitions should be a little but not too difficult, you should feel them. Do the normal 3 or 4 sets of 10-12 repetitions with a short rest between sets. If you can't finish all the sets and reps just do it until you're tired, don't push so hard at first the point is to get yourself used to the whole gym-going life.

A lot of people, mainly men are intimidated by the gym as beginners. Lord knows I was. Here you go in your regular life smart as hell, shitting on those whose mental prowess is inferior to yours or maybe you're smooth, Mr. Man, Mr. Cool, with your big ol' dick, and/or your pretty face, Mr. Ladies Man or Mr. Mans Man (depending on whichever way you swing) or maybe you're rich and powerful, with hundreds of corporate minions trembling at every syllable that escapes your lips, well none of that shit matters at the gym. All of your status symbols, titles, bank accounts and all that other shit is checked at the door. The gym is all about physical strength and everybody has to start at the bottom.

It can be quite embarrassing not being able to lift weights as heavy as all the musclebound dudes around you. If you see five guys bench pressing two and three forty-five pound plates on each side you will probably feel a little foolish lifting the bar. Which for a lot of people can bring back terrible repressed memories of high school weight room. The easiest way to combat this is to start out using the machines. In most gyms the bench presses and dumbbells and other free weight activities that the bigger and more experienced people use are usually separated from the workout machines that smaller more inexperienced people tend to use. In my gym I'm lucky enough to have the free weights and the machines on separate floors, downstairs and upstairs respectively.

The cool thing about machines as opposed to free weights is that the machines do a good portion of the work for you, not so much of the lifting but of controlling the weight. When you bench press or do dumbbell curls not only are you lifting the weight but you have to use your strength to control the weight as well. Machines do the control part for you, which takes great stress off of the beginner. Losing control of a weight while lifting can cause great injury. The absolute best thing about machines though is that most of them are constructed so that no one can really see how much you're lifting. It's a great way to build yourself up so that when you do graduate to using free weights like I have you will be strong enough to not have to start out with the bar.

Now of course we all know that it shouldn't matter what people think about how much we can lift. And we should all be able to lift that bare bar with pride without our insecurities getting the best of us. A wise and strong man once advised me not to care about what people may think about how much or how little I can lift. That I should concentrate on me and what I need to do, fuck everybody else. Everybody, even the big and muscley guys had to start somewhere. The thing to fear is not the stares and snickers of the muscley guys, but the effect that fat, fast foods and the sedentary lifestyle of most Americans will have on our health. All of our insecurities won't matter once we're morbidly obese or once our arteries are clogged with fat and we have a heart attack. The only thing to fear is fat itself.

4. Understand that "A shitty workout is better than no workout at all."

Unlike like damn near everything else in life I see the gym as a quantity over quality thing. Don't not go to the gym because you feel as though you don't have enough time to devote to it. I say all you really need at the absolute least is a half hour a day. I'm way too lazy and too busy to spend three and four hours a day at the gym and besides after an hour to an a hour and a half I start getting bored anyway.

A wise man once told me that "a shitty work out is better than no work out at all". Many times I find myself getting to the gym an hour or even as little as forty minutes before it closes and although I don't have much time to spend there I still go as I don't wanna get out of the habit of going. Even if I'm kinda tired or really don't feel like going I still muster up the strength to go. I just probably won't work as hard but so what. I don't beat myself up over it. The key is to make the gym like eating and sleeping, a regular part of your daily life.

5. Understand that one of the best things about working out is that it counteracts all of the horrible foods you eat and will make you able to eat them with less consequence.

The coolest thing about going to the gym is that you feel a little better when you eat all the junk foods you like because you know that you are gonna eventually work them off (as long as you don't start eating more junk food because you started working out), but what's even cooler is that when you really start getting into the workout groove you'll want to eat better because you know that it will accelerate the results that you are seeing. So basically you're psyching yourself out, but instead of psyching yourself into thinking that Mr. Whatshisname is really gonna call or that some fake-ass bitches who aren't worth your time anyway really do like you, this psyching out is gonna actually do you some good.

6. Align yourself with one of those crazy people that actually enjoys working out.

You see those crazy-ass people at the gym, the ones that seem to be enjoying themselves, lifting those weights, all muscley and chiseled. These muscle people, although they are a different species from lazy folk like you and me do live outside the gym. It would do you some good to get to know one of them and even start working out with one of them as it'd be quite encouraging to you. I wouldn't advise that you start making conversation with random muscley strangers at the gym (although it wouldn't be terrible or anything), but rather think of people you know who work out regularly. C'mon you gotta know somebody, and if you're gay you have no excuse. Find that person and tag along with them to the gym.

I've aligned myself with a friend of my friend who lives down the street from me and works out at my gym. Not only does he work out regularly at my gym, he works out with his lover regularly at my gym. They are both "He-Men" who live together, are in a long-term relationship and are very much in love. It's a great thing to see. So not only do they encourage me to stay fit, their example encourages me that true love and finding the one (or at least the one you can learn to tolerate for the long haul) is possible.

Although I don't work out with them everyday, because I'm not trying to impede upon their couple, bonding workout time (I have better manners than that). I have taken what they've taught me and have applied it to my workout routine.

So, relax, follow these rules and working out shouldn't be so bad.

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Playing In The Background...
"The Workout"
by Utada
from the album "Exodus"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 04:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

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This is one of my favorite posts. It's about rules. I'm naturally a rebel, so I hate rules, especially dating rules, but there is one rule I follow though. Here it is.

Enjoy.

Originally posted on December 12, 2007 6:00 AM
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I really hate those people who like make up rules for every fuckin' thing. Like that awful fuckin' three month rule. You know, the one that says you have to wait until you're dating someone for at least three months until you finally fuck. Like, what kinda bullshit is that? I co-sign with my friend and lyricist extraordinare, Shorty Roc's sentiments on that:

"Three months! Three months, and you not fuckin him!?! If you not fuckin' then him who is? 'Cuz if you make him wait that long you know he gon' be fuckin' somebody..."

My sentiments exactly. That shit is stupid.

In general I don't like time contingent rules regarding people and relationships. We watch the damn clock enough in our lives between our jobs and schools and other obligations. Relationships should be the one thing that we allow to just let flow naturally. I mean, don't get me wrong, even though it's not my particular thing I guess there are some things in relationships that should have some sort of time based guidelines and you should never rush anything, but it's just the rigid, regimented nature of it all that rubs me the wrong way. In the end if things are good between you and the other person I say let nature do its thing and sit back and enjoy the ride.

((sigh))

Unfortunately as time marched on my outlook on rules began to change. As much as I hate rules, namely the three month rule, due to a few horrible experiences I'm finding it necessary to break my own rule and enact a rule of my own:

Whenever I meet someone and we like each other and decide to date I'm not gonna introduce him to anyone for at least a month.

A solid month, that doesn't just mean knowing him for thirty days either. It means that I would have to be seeing him on the regular, like two to three times a week for at least four weeks, that's the trial period. And by the end of that trial period we would have to be dating exclusively. As y'all know I tried the dating around thing and I'm just not into it. Besides, I'm way too jealous for that shit. If I'm really feeling someone I don't wanna be with anyone else while I'm trying to get to know them and I know that I can't handle knowing that they're with someone else, especially if we've had sex. And nowadays I'm too busy to date eighty-five people at once anyway.

Before the trial period is over I'll try my best not to even mention him to anyone, especially my friends. Of course I'll write about him on the blog, he'll be aliased of course. It's just that nothing's worse than liking someone and telling the whole world about them and having things just fall apart, especially when its so soon. 'Cuz then you have to deal with the questions: "Oh what happened to so-and-so?" and "Didn't you really like him?" and if things turn out really bad I'm gonna have to go into damage control mode. I think those first four weeks should be the trial of whether you actually like the person or whether it's all just lust and you're only holding on until you finally fuck. That's another reason why the three month rule is bullshit. At least if things dissolve during the trial period nobody knows it ever happened and we both go off into the sunset.

So that's it, that's my rule.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Scared" feat. Irv Gotti
by Ashanti
from the album "Ashanti"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

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I wrote a blog post on Tuesday entitled: "What EXACTLY Are You Looking For In A Man? Here's "The Secret" To Getting Him..." (which I suggest you read here before continuing with this post) where I tell the story of a close friend who says that using the philosophies of "The Secret" and "The Law Of Attraction" are the way to draw the quote-unquote "perfect" man into your life. He put his theory into action by making a list of all the attributes he wants in a man, mental, physical, spiritual, sexual, etc., and posted it on his wall in hopes that his list, being visible out in the universe will be somehow cosmically draw the perfect man it describes to him.

For experiment's sake and in cooperation with his theory I in turn made a list of all the attributes I want in a man and I posted it on the blog. I put these attributes into six categories: "Personality", "Relationship Habits", "Beliefs and Other Habits", "Miscellaneous", "Physical and Tangible', "Sexual Characteristics", and "Overall". I found that in completing this exercise that I wanted much more than I thought I wanted in a man, especially in the category of "Beliefs and Other Habits" which was substantially longer than all the others. Of course, as soon as I listed the physical attributes that I look for in a man that I knew that I was asking for trouble and that a comment like this would soon follow:

"From reading your post and others similar...

I can say that you fall into the usual group of typical gay men. The same ones who jump from man to man and wonder why they can't settle for real, real. The ones who fail to realize the common cause for failure. You come off as quite superficial in your desires...and I guess this can be a reason for your failed and failed again unions.

It's a lot about image/looks/sex...and less about substance. No matter how you become verbose in going in all the mumbo jumbo talk...it's just a disguise for the fact that at the end of the day...you are just too superficial.

All the best.
-Observer"

*claps hands sacrastically*

Bravo! Brav-fucking-vo!

How avant garde?

What a tour de force?

Don't you just feel great about yourself? Coming on here with your bullshit fake email address trying to call me superficial. Wow. How innovative? Like I've never heard that one before. If you read that whole blog post and only the parts where I mentioned looks and sex (the smallest parts mind you) are all you took from then it you are obviously insecure in those areas. The least you could have done is leave a real email address. You're like a kid who rings doorbells and runs down the block. Because you don't even have the courage to leave a valid email address I cannot have any respect for you or anything you had to say. You wanna be bold? You wanna be fierce? You wanna "read the gurls"? Bold and fierce is saying something to someone and having the courage to accept whatever it is they have to say back. I can and have admitted when I was wrong or when someone has pulled my card but you haven't. Nice try, but you fall into the usual group of typical people who try me and fail miserably. Now run along and join the others who've failed.

For future reference it's okay if you disagree with me. I welcome debate, I think it's great. But at least leave a valid email address so we can discuss the matter like adults. I may even want to sip further from your fount of wisdom, but I can't do so without a valid email address. I'm human just like you are, there's nothing to be afraid of. Don't be the annoying ass kid who rings doorbells and runs down the block. Have a little more respect for yourself and whatever you have to say.

- Adam
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Now what that comment did, besides annoy the hell outta me, was shed some light on a very sensitive subject that I've been wanting to discuss here, but have never quite found the right way to express: Looks. I'm about to get really honest here. Like really, really honest almost to the point where I was almost kinda wary about posting this because of all the drama I know it's gonna probably cause. A lot of people aren't gonna like what I have to say (what else is new), but fuck it. I'm just gonna keep it very real. Usually I'd save this for the end but I'm gonna start off with it.

The message of this post is to convey two things:

1) Looks matter. They do. Get into it. We're human. We have eyes. We see things. Anyone who sits here and says that they don't matter is lying to themselves. Looks aren't everything though, but in most cases they are what initially attract us to each other and to dismiss their importance in an attempt to seem deeper and more grounded than someone else is futile and unrealistic.

2) Anyone who sees someone else who accepts the above truth, that truth being that looks do matter and says to them that they are superficial is more than likely insecure in themselves and probably lacking in their own looks.

You know what the first thing I thought when I read the comment from Observer was? Ugly, she must be ugly. Someone rejected her due to her looks, she's scarred by it and my being specific about what I'm into struck a nerve with her. I don't know how Observer looks or her life story to say for sure that she's ugly or scarred, but she damn sure sounds like it. Someone who is attractive and secure in their looks would therefore understand the importance of looks in the scheme of things regarding attraction and coupling and not dismiss them or a person who knows the value of them as quote-unquote "superficial". Superficial is just another one of those words that insecure people throw around to make themselves feel better. Ooh some random anonymous computer person called me superficial, I'm gonna go into a corner and cry. Oh please.

Looks are what initially attract us to people. In a crowded club or on a dating website, looking at a stranger from across the bar or on your computer screen you can't see the content of his character or the virtue of his soul, you see how he looks. Looks are what ignite our initial interest in people were looking to date and with that we go deeper to subsequently discover the more important things, like what's in their heart and soul.

People like Observer like to try and make normal people like you and I feel guilty for having standards and expectations as far as looks are concerned, by throwing around words like shallow and superficial. I've always said that there is no such thing as prejudice when it comes to sex and relationships. Sex and romantic relationship are the closest instances in which people can be with one another and in such cases we are more than justified in being discriminatory.

Case in point. The times that I've been online or in a club and have sent a stranger who caught my eye a message or walked up to them and said hello, alluding to some sort or romantic overture or subsequent date and that person said to me "Oh, I'm sorry I'm not into black guys." or "Oh, you're a little too skinny, too young, too old for me." etc. Am I to then go back to that person and say that they are superficial just because they don't like me? Ummm no. Why you ask? Because they have the right to like or not to like whatever it is they like, even if it's not me. I can't fault them for that. Sure I may be a wonderful person inside, but if I don't ignite that initial aesthetic spark in that person that's okay. I'm okay. My inner wonderfulness will be for someone else who is attracted to me discover. I'd sound like a nut, or maybe like our Observer friend, to knock someone and call them superficial simply for liking what they like. And because someone is not into me that doesn't make me any less attractive or wonderful, I'm just not for that person. So I shake the dust from my feet and more on.

As far as that silly comment about my being quote-unquote "superficial" being the reason why my past relationships have failed. That's just retarded. I've dated quite a few people with a few significant relationships in between and things haven't worked out with those people for various reasons. To date someone means that we have gotten past what we look like, the thing that initially attracted us to each other and are into each other for deeper reasons due to the fact that we've gotten to know each other better. To say that my past relationships have failed solely because I date guys who look a certain way would mean that all of the guys I've dates are the same because of how they look and that's just dumb, or maybe that I responded to them all the same because of how they look, also dumb. That whole statement was a dumb, half-assed attempt at insulting me, that wasn't really thought out very well.

To believe that statement would mean that if I only date guys who I'm not attracted to everything would magically be okay. That I would have to as she says "settle" for someone. We are all way to special to have to "settle" for anything. To "settle" for someone is to do them a grave disservice. I want someone to want and desire me. To love me for me, all of me, looks and personality. I don't want to be with a man who has merely settled for me. Trust me, I've been down the whole 'oh I'm really not attracted to him physically, but he's a really nice guy so I'll give him a chance' road and that shit obviously didn't work either, you must not have read that blog post. So now what Ms. Observer?

People are so stuck on being nice and politically correct nowadays. It's not nice to say that you think someone is ugly. It's not nice to say that you feel that someone is unattractive. Why are you so scared to feel it? You're thinking it. It is what it is. So when people are specific about the physical aspects of the people they're attracted to we're so quick to call them superficial or shallow or mean. People want what they want and like what they like, if it just doesn't happen to be you or me that doesn't make us any less beautiful or wonderful. We're just not attractive to them, that one person or those people, big whoop. That's just one or a few opinions, opinions are like assholes, everybody's got one, so what if somebody doesn't like you. A good portion of the people who read my blog don't like me. Does that stop me from spreading my sunshine? Hell fuckin' no.

There is nothing wrong with you liking what you like. If you only like dark skinned men, or light skinned men, or big men, or thuggish men that's your preference and you have the right to have it. Hopefully you find that man of your aesthetic dreams that also has the best heart and soul and all the love in the world for you. That would be your quote-unquote "perfect" man. And I wish everyone that sort of happiness.

Love and relationships are not easy, as we learn and live our lives more than likely we are gonna have to date quite a few people to find someone who fits. That has much more to do with how the person is rather than how they look. Just because someone looks a certain way it doesn't make them a certain way. And just because you are attracted to people that look a certain way that doesn't make you superficial.

Like I said, that whole comment Observer left was just unfounded and dumb. Now I'm starting to see why she didn't sign her full name to her comment. I wouldn't have either. Observer's comment is so the cookie-cutter, knee jerk, typical reaction that an insecure person has to someone who is secure and not afraid to say what it is they want. So thank you Observer for totally missing the point of my blog post, just as I knew someone was bound to do and for being the inspiration of this blog post. People like you are just another reason why I do what I do.

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Playing In The Background...
"Echo"
by Ciara
from the album "Fantasy Ride"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 02:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

Today is a wonderful-ass motherfuckin' day. As I sit here on my bed today, early in the morning, typing this blog post with the sun shining through my window as Queen Latifah coos about "georgia roses" while Stevie Wonder plays the harmonica in the background I have just realized that this is the first time in my romantic life that I am not looking for a boyfriend.

It's always been one thing or the other. I've either had a boyfriend or was on a search for one. Now I'm not doing either and believe it or not (that statement addressed more toward my belief than yours) the shit is okay. I didn't mean for this to happen, it just kinda did. I just got out of a bad situation, you know, tryna heal and what not. The usual knee-jerk response would have been to go in for the rebound with the first person who showed me any attention, but not this time. Usually after every bad breakup the next guy I end up with is someone I really don't want, but just someone who's nice to me and in some cases actually worships the ground I walk on. Once I fully get over the initial breakup and get back on my feet again, I snap out of it, look over at the other side of the bed in disbelief at the mess I've made and abruptly break it off with the rebound guy, with no genuine regard for his feelings. I meet another jerk and the process goes around again. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. At this point I've been through enough shit in my love life to know now at twenty-five what it is I'm looking for and I just don't see the need to mess around with someone for rebound's sake and use them just for the sake of having company. It's so messy and such a dead end road. So to that I say... ummm... err... you know what? I'm good.

All of that rebound shit was all due to me lying to myself. Lying and saying that I'm good, that shit didn't hurt me, that the prior relationship was nothing, that I don't need time to heal. That I'ma just move right on to the next bitch. In turn trying to make something work with someone who I knew good and well that I didn't want just to fill an empty space inside of me. Using them, playing with their emotions. Boy do I know how that feels. It feels terrible, it's selfish and it's shitty, to say the least. One thing I can say at the end of this my bad breakup is that that shit was payback for all the fucked up shit I've done to others. That little nigga put me through it, but it's all good. With all debts paid up and the slate clean I'm open to have something real come to me. So just in case you're out there currently fucking, or have fucked someone over, trust and know that that shit will come back to you in a pretty little package to bite you in the ass and it won't be pretty.

One of the promises that I made to myself coming into 2008 was that this year I was going to start cultivating new friendships instead of always being on the hunt for the next date. I'm a person who values my friendships like gold, they mean so much to me, the dates, the fucks, the boyfriends, they come and go, but I have friendships that span several years. Due to this their volatility, over time romantic interests have become less and less important to me and to you too I'm sure, because really, how many of your ex-dates are you cool with? So this year I've made a few really good new friends and have done all I can to stop things from ever crossing the line.

Case in point. I met a guy this summer, a fellow blogger. I was instantly attracted to him and I found out subsequently that he was attracted to me as well. Upon further investigation we found out that we're both tops and therefore sexually incompatible. From that point we decided to just be friends and in the months since we've grown to be just that. What's funny is that the more I got to know him the less attractive he became to me and vice-versa I'm sure. So instead of trying to force things into an awkward boyfriend situation that would have been broken up by now I gained a good good girlfriend which I'll probably have forever.

So, what do I do about sex? Good question. Y'all know me, as much masturbating to Nubian101 as I do to get by I'ma still need me some ass every so often. Well kids as of late I've learned to appreciate the jumpoff. You know, someone who's kinda like a friend, you're cool with them, but they're not like your bestie, your BFF, or your ace. They can spend the night and even cuddle with you but they also know when it's time to go home. Your time together is your time together and anything else you all do when you're not together isn't up for discussion or concern. They're in your life mostly for the sex and you're in theirs mostly for the same thing. You don't hate your jumpoff, it's quite the opposite but, you're not in love with them and for whatever reason you can't see yourself ever actually being with them either. Back in the day I'd get too emotionally attached to anyone who I was having sex with regularly and would want more, but I've grown to realize that in the case of the jumpoff that ruins things. I've learned to appreciate the beauty of the jumpoff relationship now, because it is quite a beautiful thing.

So, what about love? I'm not your typical cynical-ass queen who's been burned and has stopped believing in love, no not at all. I very much do believe in love. I just believe that it will come when it comes and I'm not rushing it or standing in its way. Like I said before I know what I want. So when the right guy comes along with all or the most important of the things I want and need we'll get together. In the meantime I'm gonna continue to work on me, working, writing my blog, going to the gym, writing my book, being the best me I can be until that day comes, but in the meantime I'm really not worried about it. Y'all didn't hear me, I'm like seriously not worried about finding a man. That was not just a sentence I typed, that was big. I'm like seriously not worried about finding a man. It's like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders and off my mind. It's, it's effin' beautiful man.

I feel free now. I'm more honest now. If I only want someone for sex, I tell them. I don't lead them on to think that there will be more. I've been running into people online or out in the streets that I wronged before, like people I fucked (or didn't quite fuck) and stopped returning their phone calls and shit like that and I'm apologizing to them. I just wanna be right, it's such a great feeling. Even if someone online asks me why I'm not replying to their messages, whether it's because I'm not attracted to them or whatever. I tell them the truth and even why I'm not attracted to them if they ask. The whole online thing has ceased to be a search for "the one" and has become only but a mere source of entertainment for me as of late. I've been running into some really peculiar characters lately who have served as great sources of writing inspiration.

You know, that Jesus was really onto something when he said "...Ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free" (John 8:32).

Free yourselves.

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Playing In The Background...
"Georgia Rose" feat. Stevie Wonder
by Queen Latifah
from the album "Trav'lin' Light"
and
"Moratorium"
by Alanis Morrisette
from the album "Flavors Of Entanglement"
and
"I Believe In Love"
by Syleena Johnson
from the album "Chapter 2: Pain And Forgiveness"
and
"Integrity"
by Daryl Coley
from the album "When The Music Stops"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 07:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

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This is one of my favorite poems so I decided to repost it. How many times have we let someone get away with treating us not as good as we deserve to be just because they look good or we think that we're not on their level and are in a sense grateful for being in their presence, as though we aren't good enough. It doesn't even have to be looks that make you stay, it could be about the way he makes you feel or the sex or a combination of the three. What's even worse is when we know it's true and we try to rationalize the shit.

Enjoy.

Originally posted on November 10, 2007 11:12 AM
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If He Was Ugly
by Adam Benjamin Irby

If he was ugly...
Would you let him do the things he do?
Would you let him say what he say to you?
Or act the way he acted,
If you weren't so attracted.
And forgive so automatic.
And live life so tragic.
The longing for better days, you trade,
Your sense, you're like an addict.
Why's he such a prize,
Just a sight for sore eyes.
Telling yourself lies,
Under the guise of compromise.
Disdain in your brain,
Numb like Novocaine.
You fold in your pain, like a collar stain,
On a white collared Polo rugby.
Would you treat him so lovely,
If you didn't think you were so ugly?

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Playing In The Background...
"Why You Gotta Look So Good?" feat. Lloyd Banks
by Mya
from the album "Moodring"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 03:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

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This a series of posts that I've been thinking long and hard about writing. I've been so deep in thought about it because I'd be stating my honest opinion, mostly venting about shit that gets on my motherfuckin' natural black nerves and I fully know and realize going in, unlike most times where I don't know and realize going in that I'm gonna offend someone. But, fuck it (not butt fuck it LOL), it's my blog. I'ma say what I want, whoever doesn't like it doesn't have to read it. Shit, that's what the "comments" section is for. I gotta let some stuff out and I may even educate or inform someone in the process. This thought process is actually the birth of a series of posts that I've titled: "Adam's Opinion On..."

-Adam
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Today's Subject: Closeted Gay Men

I'm gay. I'm gay and damn proud of it and wouldn't change it for all the tea in China. One of the things I love most about myself is my great sense of self-acceptance. I love me, all of me, even the stuff that gets on my nerves sometimes, and whatever things about me that get on my nerves I'm not so much looking to change, but to improve for the sake of the overall me, to make me a better me, more efficient me. So the words "I wish I weren't gay" would never escape my lips, gay is a part of me. I love being gay. I love everything about it, even the stuff you don't like, because in it's own little way it's helped to shape me into the lovely me that you see before you today. On my worst gay day the last thing I would ever wanna be is straight (and I'm sure straights feel the same way, they should). With that said these homos running around here wishing that they weren't gay get on my last nerve.

Closeted men. How tired is that? Knowing full well that your ass is gay, fucking asses and taking dicks, but then when asked you lie and say you're not gay. That's so tired. So what, you like dick, don't be a fuckin' pussy about it! It's not just tired, it's sad, to continually deny who you are over and over again must kill you a little more inside each time you do it. I could see it if you were young and still living at home or it was to save your job or if you were in immediate danger or something like that and even those non-ideal situations the people in them don't want to be in them and are trying to make their way out if at all possible. Who wouldn't wanna live their lives in total freedom? Who wants to live in secret? To straight up lie, just for the sake of acceptance is just crazy to me.

Just so that we're clear. I'm making the distinction here between closeted men, gay men who know they're gay but lie about it for acceptance sake (I guess) and DL men, men who date and even marry women but still fuck around with men. DL men are just totally gross and a disgrace to all men gay and straight. They're a horse of another color, not only don't I have respect for them I can't stand them, but that's a whole 'nother blog post.

With that said, let's continue. A friend of mine told me a story of two men he knew that bought a two bedroom condo that they couldn't afford just so that when their parents and other people came over one could sleep in the other room so that they could live under the guise of being roommates. Two single and available men, over 30, no girlfriends, no ex-wives, no kids, living together for years and years and they really don't think that people don't know what's going on, like they're really fooling somebody. The question is are they trying to fool other people or fool themselves? How ridiculous is this? To fuck your finances and credit up to maintain a facade of a life solely for the approval of other people. In what life does that make sense? These are grown ass men living their lives in hiding like little kids. How are you gonna let other people rule how you live your life in your house, that you pay for? That's crazy. Couldn't be me.

All of this though is my opinion. I mean hey, if you wanna be a closet case, be a closet case, that's your life, your right as an American, just keep the shit away from me. Due to what I do (the blogging and such) and my overall nature I can't be friends with you ('cuz everyone knows I'm gay and don't deny it, so being around me is gonna out you sooner or later) and I most certainly won't date you. If someone tries to talk to me at a club or hits me up online and says anything even remotely to the effect that they are not out, that ends the conversation. That is unless they continue it, then a debate usually ensues.

Yesterday, a guy hit me up online. I looked at his profile. It said that he was "not out". Let's call this guy CedarChest (cedar, because he's in the closet). I politely ended the conversation, he continued it and the debate ensued and of course I've added my sidebar comments:

CedarChest: "whas good"

Me: "nothin chillin, sorry but im not into dudes that arent out about their sexuality."

Sidebar: Politely ending the conversation.

CedarChest: "thas kool but u should respect someones choice to not b captain gay. i wasnt tryna holla at u on that level jus wanted to chat wit see how convo goes"

Sidebar: Sure you weren't... but either way, a closet case having a convo with "Captain Gay" ain't gon' go but so far.

Me: "<=== Captain Gay and proud. I'm gonna take on that moniker, thank you. Nah I actually don't have respect for any grown ass man who's on the DL. I'm not saying be a drag queen but if someone asks you whether you're gay and you lie and say no, then no I have no respect for you."

Sidebar: CedarChest is older than me according to his profile, which makes it even more tired.

CedarChest: "well if that works for u im happy for u. but n e way whas ya name"

Me: "Captain Homo S. Gay LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL"

CedarChest: "see this is y regular dudes like me dont like fem dudes like u."

Sidebar: Bitch can't take a joke now all of a sudden I gotta be fem. Good thing that I'm a secure gay man who wouldn't take that as an insult.

Me: "I'm actually not fem, but okay. LOL And if by "regular" you must not be speaking of normal, because a normal man stands up for who he is and what he does and isn't DL. And a DL man not liking me is no surprise, how can you like me when you don't even like you?"

Sidebar: I don't like that I used the term "DL" there. I should have used the term "closeted".

CedarChest: "a normal doesnt have to b a poster boi for homosexuality. a normal man dnt care who knos but wont run around tellin everyone he is gay. now go have fun this convo wit u is a waste"

Sidebar: Yeah, but you obviously care who knows you're gay, hence why you're in the closet. Yeah, this convo, a waste, yeah. I was tryna tell you that.

Some may look at my stance as extreme but it's whatever. Being an openly gay man, with my blog, on the internet and in my community I have to deal with people's homophobic bullshit all the time. Now yes, I live in New York, a very liberal city and no I don't walk around in a dress, but I have the utmost respect for those who do. In fact most people who meet me and don't ask me about it don't even realize that I'm gay, but even a person in my situation still has homophobic attitudes to deal with. As gays we are not a societal norm and at times it's a struggle, it's be a battle for us just to live our lives like everyone else at times, it's unfortunate but it is what it is. So while I'm on the forefront of this battle, writing, blogging, voting and being a voice in the world I really don't have the patience for a closet case. I'm like Harriet Tubman, holding niggas up with my pistol on the Underground Railroad, if you wanna be free come with me and let's fight this fight, if not I'm leaving your punk ass behind because the movement can't wait for scary ass niggas to get their shit together. In a world where gays are fighting for the rights to marry, have hospital visitation, insurance and things like that who needs a closet case running around here being a nuisance.

Remember, this is MY opinion and once you hit the close button at the top of your web browser, "Poof!" it's gone.

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Playing In The Background...
"Your Secret Love"
by Luther Vandross
from the album "Your Secret Love"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

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I'm reposting this one because it's a classic, one of my absolute favorites and one people still talk about to this day. If I didn't live this one I wouldn't believe it myself.

Enjoy.

Originally posted on September 11, 2007 10:15 AM
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I'm an advocate for online dating. I think it's great. Of course like any other kind of dating you should be careful about meeting strangers and you should be selective of who, when, where, and how long it will take before you are ready to meet somebody. On the other hand everyone is a stranger until you get to know them, right? To me meeting people online much better than getting dressed and going out to a club because it's free and you can do it in the privacy of your own home and talk to as many people as you want to one time and rejection is just a click of a mouse! All their info is on their profile, it's like ordering takeout. This series will focus on some of the not so good experiences I've had with online dating.
Enjoy.
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This has to be the absolute worst date I have ever had and I have had some bad ones, as you know. I wouldn't believe this story if I hadn't lived it myself.

I was online in the middle of the night at work about two years ago. I was talking to this guy. Unlike most guys I've talked to online he lived two states away. We talked online and over the phone for about a week. Things seemed to be going well considering the fact that we had only known each other for such a short period of time. Being the proactive person that I am I offered to take a bus to go out there where he was and stay over with him the next time I had a day off from work. He was delighted and anxious to meet me in person.

So a few days later I boarded a bus to go and meet him. Let's call him Long Distance Lover, LDL for short. Now you know LDL had to provide me with dayum near a magazine quality photo spread before I agreed to travel that far to meet him. My philosophy with photo spreads is this. Expect the person to look like their worst picture in the photo spread. If you can deal with that, then you can deal with the person. Remember, photos capture only a moment in time, a mere nanosecond of a person's existence, lighting and angles are everything. I always say if you meet anyone from online, the more photos the better.

LDL met me at the bus station once I arrived to his city. As I thought, he looked the most like his worst picture, which was okay. He wasn't drop dead gorgeous, but I wasn't about to use my return ticket right then either. We walked from there to his house. He'd already informed me that he lived with his mother who he told me was okay with my sleepover visit and his sexuality in general. You know I had to ask, I ain't that crazy.

When we reached LDL's place his mom was there, she was cooking at the time. I met her, she seemed very nice, but as much as I hate to speak ill of anyone's mother I have to say that LDL's mom didn't seem to be all there mentally. She seemed as though she had suffered through some type of mental problem or trauma in her past, she didn't seem dangerous, or scary though. She was very nice, warm and accommodating, she even offered me some of the dinner she was cooking. I ate and it was good. I had just gotten off work early that morning and I was really tired. LDL showed me to the room where I'd be sleeping and I took my clothes off and took a little nap.

I drifted in and out of sleep in LDL's bed unable to really get comfortable, number one because I was in another state in a strange bed, number two because everyone else in the house was still awake. LDL came up and and chilled with me for a while. I remember us messing around for a little bit but nothing significant happened. He left and went back downstairs and I drifted off back into my pseudo-sleep. In one of my more awake moments out of slightly opened eyes I saw his mother come into the room for a second, she did something and quickly left. I'm not sure exactly how much time had past but my fatigue had taken over and I finally fell asleep. I was awakened by the sound of LDL and his mother arguing from downstairs.

"Who's that naked man in my bed?"

LDL's mother yelled. He yelled back something indistinguishable. I'm laying there like 'What the fuck?' Still somewhere between awake and asleep hoping this shyt is some kinda crazy dream. I hear her yell again:

"Who's that naked man in my bed?"

'Oh shyt! This is fuckin' real! What the fuck is going on?' I thought. As I opened my eyes I noticed that the room was oddly feminine. Why the fuck would this nigga have me sleeping in his mother's bed? There are two bedrooms in the house. And does she not know what was going on? She was cool a little while ago. Then I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. I close my eyes and pretend like I'm asleep. LDL comes into the room, takes the phone and goes back downstairs. A few seconds later I hear LDL saying something like this:

"Hello, police....
My mother is here and I need her picked up.
She's mentally unstable and refuses to take her medication.
She has become violent."

'Oh hell fuckin' no! I gotta get outta here!' I thought as I sat up trying to devise a plan. Unfortunately there's only one exit and I can't get out without going past them and Lord only knows what's going on downstairs. Several minutes later I hear more footsteps coming up the stairs. I almost got whiplash I flung my head back down on that pillow so fast. LDL's mother comes into the room, takes me by my hand and leads down the stairs.

"See, this the naked man in my bed, I'm not crazy!"

LDL's mother said as I stood there dumbfounded in the middle of the living room floor in my boxers in front of her, LDL, and two police officers. Okay, the police have been called, this is officially the worst date ever.

"Go back upstairs!"
LDL yells at me.

"I don't understand why my son punkin' like this..."
LDL's mom says, nearly crying.

"Do you know this gentleman?"
The policeman on the left asks me.

"Yeah we're friends..."
I answer.

"I don't understand why my son punkin' like this..."
LDL's mom repeats.

"Go back upstairs!"
LDL yells at me again.

I'm 'bout tired of this nigga yellin' at me. It ain't my fault his mama crazy. He shoulda told me this shyt. This is the typa shyt you fuckin' tell a person before they travel to another state. I proceeded to go upstairs and start putting on my shyt. 'I'm getting the fuck outta here!' I thought. A few minutes later LDL comes upstairs and sees me getting ready to go.

"What you doin'?"

"Gettin' up outta here."
I answer.

"Why, why you leavin'?"

This nigga can't be serious.
"'Cuz I see Im' causing a problem here."

"Nah, it's aight. She's gone. They took her. You couldn't get back on a bus anyway now. The bus station is closed. So you mind as well stay until in the morning."

I look at my cell phone and notice that it's after one in the morning. Shyt! That bus station probably won't open until at least five or six. Once I realized I was stuck I undressed again and climbed back into bed with him. He tried to mess around with me but at that point I was still tired and really, really, really not in the mood. All I wanted to do was go home. He kept pressuring me though and we ended up doing a little something. I was so not into it though. Soon after we went to sleep. I totally regretted this whole thing and vowed to never travel this far for a date again. A few hours later we were awakened by a loud banging on the door.

"Let me in! Let me in!"

You guessed it, homegirl was back. I'm not sure how she got back but she was back. By this time it was a little after 5am and pouring raining outside. I'm laying there, totally not believing this shyt is happening to me. He went downstairs to let her in. He managed to find a way to calm her down and get her quiet. After that we switched rooms. Me and LDL were downstairs on the couch and his mother slept upstairs in her bed. That led me to ask him why the fuck we were in her bed to begin with. I also wondering what the hell fuckin' body they were hiding in that other bedroom? This whole thing was too weird for words. I was ready to go.

He explained to me that ever since his mother got sick they slept in the bed upstairs together, but tonight was different because I was here. She was scared to sleep alone. Touching story, violins playing, all that, but I wondered why he didn't bother telling me any of this before I got there. We didn't have to sleep together. I was totally fine chillin' with him and then sleeping alone on the couch. LDL coulda slept with his mother. I didn't mind, especially if it would have helped to avoid this mess. Oh yeah, and judging from his mother's reaction in front of the police LDL wasn't one hundred percent forthright with his mom about his sexuality. The nigga lied to me. So I was really over him now.

To give LDL the benefit of the doubt I guess he was tired of sleeping with his mom. He was a grown ass gay man with hormones and like the rest of us grown ass gay men I'm sure he wants to feel the touch of another man sometimes (all the time for some of us). Thankfully I have never been in the place to have to take care of a debilitated parent, I'm sure it's hard and on top of that he's all alone.

An alarm clock goes off, it's 9 am. LDL wakes up for work and asks me whether I wanted to go to work for a few hours with him or stay there as we were supposed to spend the day together. After last night I was so not into it anymore. In an effort to accelerate my escape back to New York I told him that I'd rather stay and that he could come back and scoop me up later. LDL leaves. Of course that means I was alone in the house with LDL's mother. She was upstairs asleep and this was my perfect opportunity to sneak out. In retrospect I shoulda just told his ass 'Yo mama crazy, I'm over this, I'm leaving.' But I really didn't wanna discuss this with him and I know he was already embarrassed enough after how his mom behaved the night before. I figured at the time that slipping out was the least dramatic way to handle things.

As I quietly slipped on the rest of my clothes. I realize that I left the olive green Lacoste polo I was wearing upstairs in the room. 'Oh well, fuck the shirt!' I thought as there was no way in hell I was going back up there. I heard LDL's mother come downstairs and start stirring around, of course that was my cue to pretend I was asleep again. Just then LDL called me on my cell phone. I didn't answer. He called again, and again, and again. Then he called the house phone there. His mother answers the phone. I realized that he was gonna ask her for me. The butterflies were fluttering like crazy in my stomach as I felt her presence come closer to me with the phone.

"It's for you."
She says to me leaning over the back of the pull out couch with the receiver in hand.

"Oh and I'm so sorry for last night, baby."
She continued, and flashed me the sincerest of smiles as I took the phone from her hand.

It was LDL. He was telling me that he was gonna send his friend to come pick me up in a little while. Little did he know my black ass was gonna be long gone before that happened. So after the conversation with LDL I snuck back upstairs to get my Lacoste polo. Shyt, mama was fine now I may as well get all my shyt before I bounce. As I quietly made my way out just inches from the doorknob. LDL's mother stops me.

"Excuse me baby, I was supposed to pick up a refill of these pills from the drug store. Can you get them for me baby?"

Is she fuckin' serious? This is the same woman that no more than ten hours ago dragged me in front of the police in my underwear like I was a common criminal. Now she wants me to do her favors like I'm the son she never had. Homegirl really is crazy. I was too close to getting the hell out of there to argue. She handed me the bottle of pills and I pretended to phone the pharmacy (without pressing any buttons on my cell phone, she didn't notice). After my fake conversation with the pharmacist I told her that they said she would have to come and pick up the medication herself.

And that was it. I was outside, I was free. I ran my black ass back to that bus station like I never ran before. I navigated the streets of that city like I had lived there my whole life. Thank God for my good memory and impeccable sense of direction. I didn't make one wrong turn. All the while LDL was blowing up my cell phone. I didn't answer and I was on the lookout for him as well. I wasn't in the mood to be nice, I wasn't in the mood to understand, I wasn't in the mood to explain, I just wanted to go home.

I finally got to the bus station. I found out that the next bus back to New York was leaving at 11am. By that time it was a little past 10. The bus station was all glass in front and I knew that LDL was probably looking for me. So I hid out in the back, obscured between the snack and soda vending machines until the bus arrived. I had never been so happy to see a bus in all my life. All during the ride back to New York LDL kept blowing up my phone. He had to have called like 20 times. I so didn't feel like talking to him.

The next day he called me again. This time I answered. He asked me whether I wanted to continue speaking to him as if not answering his four hundred and twenty-six phone calls weren't enough of a sign. I kindly told him that I did not want to continue speaking to him and I haven't heard from him ever since.

I feel for LDL as his situation was quite unfortunate. He should have told me about his circumstances before I came to visit him. I know it's a hard thing to tell someone that you hardly know but in this situation it was definitely necessary. He was a cool person, if he had told me about his mom I honestly would have understood and probably would have come to see him anyway. He also should have also not changed his routine with his mom so abruptly. I would have been cool adjusting to the way things were in their home. My presence was no reason to switch things up. Hopefully this experience taught LDL to tell people the full truth before inviting them over.

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Playing In The Background...
"Long Distance Love"
by Tamia
from the album "A Nu Day"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 03:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

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One thing I never, ever claimed to be was an expert as I am very much a work in progress. I'm no dummy though, I know what I know but I've never presented myself as anybody's authority. Nevertheless I must be doing something right because behind the scenes people keep on emailing me asking my for advice and I can only shy away but for so long. So here it is people, you've finally rope-a-doped me into it. I'm about to get all Dan Savage on you now. I'm not sure how all of this is gonna turn out, but however it turns out remember, you asked for it, presenting (dun-da-da-dahhh): Adam's Reluctant Advice Column.

Enjoy.

If you ever want to email me a question, problem or issue to be
possibly shared here or just wanna say "Hi." click here to send me an email. And of course whatever you send is anonymous, you don't even have to give your name.

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Hey y'all,

Today's letter addresses an age old problem which I'm sure we've all been on both sides of, neither side is a piece of cake so let's get right to it.

Dear Adam,

Well, I have a problem. I started talking to this dude a while ago. It's been about two months now. We were just friends first and then he wanted to start "talking". Well we did that and we went on one date if you want to call it a date. We just went to the movies. Well we used to talk all the time and now he just wants to text and he says he doesn't like to talk on the phone now. I feel like I am holding on to something that I should not be. I like him a lot but I am starting to think we need to just be friends or not talk at all. I need help. How should I handle this? Should I just let it go?

- Confused, But Not Really

Awww damn. I know exactly what this is. Your overall question is "Should you just let it go?" In a word, yes. In two words, hell yes. I'm gonna tell you why. It seems as though this dude you're talking to has gotten in a little over his head with you. People often fail to realize that the jump from the placid waters of 'lake friendship' into the fast moving 'relationship rapids' is a big one. The reason why we, especially as gay men can have friendships that last forever, but on the other hand change boyfriends like we change underwear is that our romantic relationships are usually very volatile as we put a lot of ourselves into them, usually very quickly. Ever notice how it took you a year to realize that you love your best friend and a month to tell your ex that you loved him? If our friend does something to offend us it's much easier to be mad for a while, cuss them out, tell them about themselves, laugh it off and move on than it is with a boyfriend because for some reason we can accept that our friends are human and therefore imperfect and can make mistakes from time to time, but we place lofty, unrealistic standards on our potential romantic partners that they MUST live by and if for some reason they falter our feelings are hurt and we're over them (underwear change). For some reason we expect every new boyfriend to bear the burdens and correct all of our damage from our past relationships. Ever notice how we'll have an unattractive friend and love the hell out of them, but we'd rather be alone before we date an unattractive guy? (That's so me.) Ever notice how we are all looking for the "perfect guy" but you never really hear anyone say that they're looking for the "perfect friend". We trim, prune and cultivate our friendships yet we expect our relationships to come ready to wear, pressed and perfectly tailored.

I digressed a little, but I've said all that to say this. From your letter it seems as though that movie date was the turning point. One of these or a combination of these two things has most likely happened and having to say this is where it gets hard for me as the person you came to for advice, but here we go. Either something you did on that date turned him off, something that was acceptable from a friend but unacceptable from a partner ('cuz remember the standards changed) or there's someone else who's come around (or has been around all along that has just now become available) that he's more interested in and seems to fit his standards better.

It seems as though he still wants to keep you as a friend though and is just too pussy to tell you that he's fucked up by trying to take things to the next level without being sure of what he really wanted to do in the first place, hoping that as a result of his gradual pushing you away (this he only just wants to just text now all of a sudden bullshit) that you become disinterested and stop pursuing the relationship and hopefully find someone else. A few weeks of not really talking while he's doing his thing with the new person (or even alone) and you getting over it or finding a new person that you get so wrapped up in that you forget all about how he strung you along and played with your emotions, would make things so that you then can both eventually laugh the whole thing off and be ki ki sisters again... I don't think so, life don't work like that buddy. Your friend (and I'm using the term loosely) is a non-confrontational pussy that's trying to have his cake and eat it too, or rather has taken a bite out of some cake, that didn't really taste like he thought it would and is trying to get a new piece of cake without spending any money, cheap bastard!

I would say for you not to let him get away with this, but I'm not gonna send you out on the attack after him like some desperate bitch, we won't have that. Unfortunately, or maybe not so unfortunately you may have to count this one as a loss. He fucked your friendship up and he's gonna have to fix it. Either way, you're gonna have to move on with your life. Stop calling him, if he calls or texts you, answer, but don't keep initiating obviously bothersome contact. Let him go. Deep down inside you know it's the best thing to do, that's the real reason why you wrote me this letter. There's no point in badgering him and making yourself look stupid and desperate. You already see what it is and where he's at so you gotta do what's best for you now. Go somewhere and heal, it shouldn't take too long, 'cuz y'all haven't been talking that long and just when he thinks it's safe to come around again, 'cuz more than likely he will. Confront him and ask him why he played you the way he did. He's gonna gag at the fact that you haven't forgotten. Don't count on this vindication though, there is a possibility that he may never speak to you again after you stop initiating contact. Either way you haven't lost anything, but yet another scatterbrained homosexual and don't we have enough of those floating around anyway?

You'll be fine. I promise.
-Adam

PS: And for the love of Marc Jacobs please tell me that you didn't have sex with him... If so add another week to the recovery process.

PPS: The prospect of a relationship is NEVER usually worth losing a friend, no matter how sexy your friend is. I've learned this the hard way too many times. Just because you're cool with someone and are attracted to them that does mean that you have to be together. FRIENDSHIP IS OKAY!

If you ever want to email me a question, problem or issue to be
possibly shared here or just wanna say "Hi." click here to send me an email. And of course whatever you send is anonymous, you don't even have to give your name.

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Playing In The Background...
"Be Mine!"
by Robyn
from the album "Robyn"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 02:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

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First of all I wanna start this post off by posting a song, "Oh Girl" by Raphael Saddiq feat Jay-Z, off his new album "The Way I See It". Let it play while you're reading the blog post. Although the subject matter of the song has nothing to do with the story I'm about to tell, it's just been the soundtrack of my day as I've been playing it nonstop since I first heard it this afternoon, or rather yesterday afternoon since it's after 4am now. Although I can't get with everything Mr. Saddiq does he's definitely a musical genius and this song proves it. This song, the whole record actually is on some Frankie Lyman, Smokie Robinson, Chi-Lites typa shit. So imagine Jay-Z on a track like that and murdering it. Raphael Saddiq doesn't even sound like himself singing it. It's crazy. Check it out. Let it play as you read. I love it. It makes me feel like a pimp or an old skool player. LOL **sings** "Ooh girl..."

Click on the player below to play:

"Oh Girl"
by Raphael Saddiq feat. Jay-Z
from the album "The Way I See It"

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It's 930a now. I had to take a nap.

Aight. So I met this guy late Friday night, let's call him Rufus. Unlike most guys I meet he was on some 'I'm ready for a relationship' type shit. His online profile actually said something like 'I wanna find a dude who will give me a reason to delete this profile'. To a dude like me who despite all of my sex-capades would like very much to settle with Mr. Right this sounds great and he was fine too. And unlike most of my dates he was my age, y'all know I'm notoriously known for dating guys younger than me (but still legal of course), what can I say, I like 'em a young, they're usually not jaded-ass queens like a lot of the guys my age and older. On top of that he lived relatively close to me, a few blocks from of my best friend's houses so I was in his area all the time, and had newly moved back to NYC, so he was easy to get to and wasn't in the current NYC black gay scene, so the chance of sexual overlap with one of my friends was minimal. If someone was to be the quote-unquote "perfect" guy for me, it was him, at least on paper.

So we chill at Rufus' place, we talk and realize that we have a lot in common, favorite TV shows, movies, we even have the same phone. His body was bangin', he had the most perfect ass ever and the way he moaned all throughout our foreplay was driving me crazy. We ended up having sex that night and he wasn't even all weird about it. Like I said, perfect. I'm like ready to marry this dude. I even asked him that night "So what's the catch?" I didn't want to be so skeptical about everything but it was so hard to believe that Mr. Right, or rather someone so right for me, with so many of the characteristics I'm looking for in a mate would just come into my life out of nowhere like this.

So Saturday morning, yesterday morning we wake up and I asked Rufus whether he wanted to see me again, 'cuz I'm still not quite believing all of this. He said yeah. We actually made tentative plans to see each other later that day that we would confirm a few hours later. I'll let the text messages tell the rest of the story and I'll sprinkle my sidebar comments throughout.

Saturday, September 13th, 2008:

502p - Rufus: "What u doing?"

545p - Adam: "Whaddup? I was just thinking about u. Believe it or not I'm finally just getting to the gym. U wanna catch a movie tonight?"

549p - Rufus: "Where and when?"

552p - Adam: "Tonight I guess like 9-ish. I'll meet u at ur place. I'll buy a newspaper and get times n shyt. I'll call u when I leave the gym. I should be outta here in 45. By the way I had a great time w u last night. Ur a kewl guy and sexy as hell. ;)"

600p - Rufus: "Thanks I had a great time also."

623p - Rufus: "Can we go tomorrow. My bestfriend just called me and I had invited him over last week but just heard from him. Was not sure if he could make it since I had not heard from him. Sorry."

Sidebar: This nigga must have went and found him another date he wants to see tonight. He really thinks I'm stupid or something, he's obviously juggling, but lemme not be a jaded queen and give him the benefit of the doubt. I'll play along. But you can't juggle a juggler. I invented that shit. I'm tight that now I gotta, make alternate plans because this nigga got another date. Fuck it, I was gonna see "The Women" tonight whether I saw it with him or not. I know it sounds like I'm jumping to a conclusion but I'ma let y'all know how I know he was lying and the critical rookie mistake he made in telling this particular lie.

625p - Adam: "Aight, I guess tomorrow then. :("

Sidebar: He has lost SO many points with me. If this were "Wheel Of Fortune" he would have just spun the wheel and landed on "bankrupt" right now.

626p - Rufus: "Sorry, definitely tomorrow. An afternoon date, we could even have brunch and then a movie or movie and a meal LOL"

706p - I get out of the gym and call him. Voicemail. I don't do voicemail. Suspicions further confirmed.

1041p - I call again as I'm on my way to Mr. Man's house to meet up with our other boys to head out to the movie. He answers. I ask what he's doing and he tells me he's just chilling with his best friend. I let him know that I'm heading out to the movies with my boys and that I didn't want to interrupt them and that I'd holla lata.

Sunday, September 14th, 2008:

I text him during the movie:

1:29a - Adam: "What u doin?"

132a - Rufus: "Layin down"

132a - Adam: "Are u alone?"

134a - Rufus: "Yes"

135a - Adam: "Can I snuggle w u tonite? I promise I'll be a good boy... :)"

138a - Rufus: "Lol. My best friend is here just sleeping on the couch. I am just alone in my room."

Sidebar: Lies. And a bad one at that. I'ma have to teach this nigga how to lie. This shit is pitiful, almost painful to watch, yet funny. This, by the way is the catch.

141a - Adam: "But u still didn't answer my question..."

142a - Rufus: "Lol. See u tomorrow night."

Sidebar: Nice try, but even being dismissive won't get you out of this one. Being evasive is something you should have tried two lies ago. Lemme nip this thing in the bud right now.

146a - Adam: ":) R u on a date?"

Sidebar: 16 minutes later...

202a - Adam: ":)"

Thought so. Mr. Rufus got the game all fucked up. He was tryna juggle but he made a few fatal errors. See this is the thing y'all. I'm a Leo, so with that comes the propensity to be a pretty decent liar. What makes me an even better liar than the average Leo is the fact that I don't like to lie and that I have a really good memory, especially of details. Lemme tell you where Rufus went wrong and how he could have actually gotten away with this if he played his cards right.

Rufus' first mistake was made at 623p Saturday evening. How did I know immediately that he was telling me a lie. He said to me:

"Can we go tomorrow. My bestfriend just called me and I had invited him over last week but just heard from him. Was not sure if he could make it since I had not heard from him. Sorry."

Rookie lie mistake, too many details. When telling the truth details confirm innocence, when telling a lie they only fuel suspicion. The more details you put into a lie the more details you then have to be responsible for. A better lie for him to tell would have been:

"My best friend is going through something with his boyfriend, he's all crying and shit. I really need to be there for him tonight. I know that this is short notice and I'm really sorry to do this to you, but can we reschedule for tomorrow? I promise I'll make it up to you. :)"

Why is my lie better than his? See, I put more emphasis into engaging the person I'm lying to than I did into explaining myself. For someone to be a decent liar they must first understand the truth. The thing that people need to understand about the truth is that the truth just is. There's no need to explain the truth. If my best friend was indeed going through something with his boyfriend then that is what it is, no need to validate it with details, instead I need to validate the person I'm canceling on to insure that I can get together with him tomorrow while still being able to do what I wanted to do tonight. In order to make someone else believe a lie you have to believe it first. His mistake was that he didn't believe his own lie and that he needed to validate it in his own mind by reciting details to me. I just met him yesterday. I didn't need to know that he invited his friend over last week, I didn't even know him last week. Why did he tell me that his friend was coming over to his house, I didn't need to know that, that's none of my business, he didn't owe me that much of an explanation. For all I know he could have been going to his friend's house. By leaving things open that way my mind could not latch on to anything specific about the story to create a mental case against him. With minimal details I have no choice but to believe whatever he tells me. Those details aren't totally needless though, he should have rehearsed them in his mind and created a mental back story, so that he could be sharp just in case of questioning and he then would have had more confidence in the lie he was planning to tell me.

He tried to validate me two minutes later when he said:

"Sorry, definitely tomorrow. An afternoon date, we could even have brunch and then a movie or movie and a meal LOL"

But it was already too late. And laughing, even "LOL" via text message screams nervousness.

His second mistake:

1:29a - Adam: "What u doin?"

132a - Rufus: "Layin down"

Number one, he should have never answered my text. Again, being vague is the key to lying. By him answering my text I knew that he was awake and where he was. If he had never answered I wouldn't have known where he was or what he was doing and again, I would have had no choice to believe whatever he told me. If you are with one date and another date texts or calls you DO NOT ANSWER THE PHONE! My only explanation for why he answered was because the date obviously wasn't going so great. If you're with another date at 130 in the morning and you're answering my text the other date certainly must not be all that.

132a - Adam: "Are u alone?"

134a - Rufus: "Yes"

Number two, he should have never answered this question either, although he really had no choice at his point, all it did was build my case against him.

135a - Adam: "Can I snuggle w u tonite? I promise I'll be a good boy... :)"

138a - Rufus: "Lol. My best friend is here just sleeping on the couch. I am just alone in my room."

Not only is he answering my questions and giving me details of his where and whatabouts but he just caught himself in a lie. He just said he was alone. And there was no need to go into detail about he and his "best friend's" sleeping arrangements. Notice how I never told him where I was. I was texting him from the movie theatre downtown but I could have just as easily been at my friend's house who he knows only lives a few blocks away from him. He could have included that fatal little detail out of possible fear that I may have been in the area. And furthermore, why wouldn't his best friend sleep in the bed with him? Anytime one of my best friends stay over they sleep in bed with me. It's not like we're straight and that would be considered out of the ordinary or something. This was obviously a lie. If I didn't have any concrete evidence before, I have it now, he's caught.

141a - Adam: "But u still didn't answer my question..."

142a - Rufus: "Lol. See u tomorrow night."

His attempt to finally be evasive at my questioning was too little too late, he's caught already.

See the thing is, he didn't even have to go through all of this, the lies and all. He could have actually told the truth and I actually would have understood. I mean, hey, we're all grown-ups here. I've been through enough and have dated enough to know that none of us when we're endeavoring to begin something with someone new starts out completely single. Even if we don't have a steady boyfriend or girlfriend we all have a litany of fuck buddies, dates, jumpoffs, people we're talking to and ex-date baggage that we have to prune away before we can give ourselves fully to that someone new, shit, I got jumpoffs. Besides, he just met me 36 hours ago, he had no obligation to me, he didn't have to lie. He could have just said 'Adam, I forgot I already had plans tonight' or he could have even said that he had another date. I have to admit that it wouldn't have exactly been music to my ears but it would have been better than lying and attempting to insult my intelligence. He could have at least respected me enough to tell me the truth. He didn't have to go into details, but he would have at least given me the opportunity to make an informed decision about how I felt about him dating other people. I mean he was well within his rights to do so, we hadn't established anything yet. And even if he hadn't mentioned anything about the date he was going on at least be evasive enough in your explanation to validate me but not arouse my suspicion. But that was his mistake, he didn't lie to validate me, he lied to validate himself. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. He lied so he could test the waters without the risk of losing me.

I've been where he is many times before. You meet someone you like and then all of a sudden someone else you could possibly like comes out of the blue and before you can really get into that first person you wanna test out the other person just so that you don't have to wonder. And after knowing the first person for only 36 hours I feel as though you're well within your rights to do that, but if you are gonna do it, tell the whole truth or at least a decent lie. It's so weird how we as gay men have this weird expectation that as soon as we talk to a guy that no one else in the world is talking to him. Like he ceases to be attractive and attracted to other people. I've learned through experience that monogamy is not an event it's a process.

So now I must decide whether I want to see Rufus again today. He never hit me back yesterday, obviously not. He was embarrassed. I caught his ass. Besides the fact that he's a bad liar he's still all the great things I described earlier. Is that enough reason to never speak to him again or should I call him, let him off the hook and continue with our plans for today. He obviously wasn't too into that date anyway. Today can be a chance for us to have an honest talk with each other. Mr. Man forgave me for all the fucked up shit I did to him last year and now we're the best of friends, this little mess here pales in comparison. Mr. Man didn't just throw me away when I lied to him so maybe this is my chance to pass that same forgiveness along. And I just really want the pleasure of confronting Rufus face to face.

What I don't like most about all of this, even though at this juncture it's really not a big deal, is the fact that Rufus tried to insult my intelligence. I have seen so much and have played so many games that at this point if a nigga does play me it's only because I'm allowing him to. A perfect example of that was the whole Pubby debacle. And besides I'd rather fuck with a bad liar than a good one.

We'll see.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Oh Girl"
by Raphael Saddiq feat. Jay-Z
from the album "The Way I See It"
and
"Liar Liar" feat. FloRida
by Girlicious
from the album "Girlicious"
and
"Little Lies"
by Fleetwood Mac
from the album "The Very Best Of Fleetwood Mac"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 03:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

There was this time where I met this guy, lets call him Lawrence. Me and Lawrence initially met on the internet and when we decided to meet in person and we met at a local lounge. I brought friends with me and so did he. After I walked in and we recognized each other I sat over by where him and his friends were. He was fine as hell, better looking than his pictures and he was feeling me too. The conversation was going good and there was definitely some chemistry. He then introduced me to his friends and as I went around shaking hands, exchanging warm smiles, trying to remember names one friend's smile was a little too warm. He looked into my eyes with a lust so hot it made the room warm. During our few second exchange he looked me dead in my eyes and never averted his stare. All of this while I was right next to Lawrence. The worst thing about it was that he was fine too. He was sexy, they were both sexy. Damn, what's a nigga to do?

As the night went on any time I looked in the friend's direction there was that same lustful stare. It got to the point where I avoided eye contact with him, but even then I could feel his gaze burning the side of my face. I'm trying to do the right thing, why is he making it so hard? The crazy thing about it is that Lawrence seems like the type that likes me and would wanna take things slow with me. His friend however seemed like he'd wanna get to know me eventually, like after I fucked the hell out of him, which is cool too, y'all know I like that kinda shit. But I remained a good boy. Eventually the friend walked away from us during the course of the night. As he sashayed toward the dance floor I could see the way his pants sagged to perfectly hug that phat ass of his. Damn.

I remained cool and continued to talk to Lawrence, who is still fine and sexy as hell, just not as flirtatious and overt. Even though overt can be such a turn on. I looked at it this way, right is right and fair is fair. I did come out to meet Lawrence so I know it'd be fucked up of me to try to holla at his friend on some sneak shit. Though Lawrence and I weren't married or nothing I at least owed him the respect of not talking to his boy. Damn I wish they didn't know each other or would have at least came separately so I could find a way to make trying to holla at the friend okay. But alas it is not. A year or two ago I woulda said fuck it and got the friend to the side and got them digits and wrote a blog post about how amazing the first date sex was, but I've grown since then, fucking growth. So I went home that night and masturbated about it and continued to court Lawrence. It was the right thing to do. But every so often an evil thought about fucking his friend crossed my mind, but I pushed them away. Life's all about choices people. But I know that sex probably woulda been off the hook. Damn, dayum, DAMN!

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Take Me On The Floor"
by The Veronicas
from the album "Hook Me Up"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 10:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

So I'm at a thing last night, a social thing. I seem to always find myself at some kind of thing or another, especially since I'm promoting my party and all now. It's a gay thing, guys are there, they're flirting with me, some more obviously than others as I work the room, flyers in hand. I'm nice, I smile. I won't flat out tell someone that I'm not interested unless they're just like really offensive, like that guy who touched my ass at Ultra the other night. I almost went the fuck off, y'all know I don't get down like that. You see why I don't wear dress pants. Anyway, as I socialized that night I began to think about all the guys that try to get at me on a daily basis whether it be at an event, or online, through here or whatever and how I'm just not into them for the most part. Why is it that I don't attract what I want? And then when I go out to get what I'm attracted to that doesn't seem to work out either.

Dating sucks. I hate meeting new people. I hate having to tell them the same stories, the same jokes, the same anecdotes, laughing the same laughs, sharing my idiosyncrasies over and over again and having to memorize theirs all for them to just up and stop calling or for things to fall apart in a few weeks time. Those people who rejoice in being single, I don't get it. I like the idea of having someone to take care of and depend on. I want someone to want to know my whereabouts and someone to spend a considerable amount of my time with. I want to build a life with someone, to have our individual lives braided together into one. Even in my more promiscuous days I never really believed in the whole "ain't no pussy like new pussy" thing. 'Cuz when the lights go out it really doesn't feel much different one from another. It's the feelings you have (or don't have) for the person that makes it differ. Like I said before as I getting older I'm getting more and more like my Dad, just a simple, no frills guy and I tend to be looking for someone more like my Mom, beautiful and feisty, who likes to dress me. I guess the right one will come along some day. I've dated a few people in the last few months but it's been like "anh whatever..."

Honestly, the main reason for my dating apathy as of late is that I wasn't fully over Pubby. Oh Jesus, I feel like such an idiot saying that but it's true. I didn't tell y'all this, but somewhere during those weeks that I didn't blog as frequently as I normally there was a relapse. We tried it again, what was that, number five? I've never been the make-up to break-up type until now. It was like, just at the moment that I thought I was finally good. I stopped the begging and pleading. I let go any hope of us in the future. Just when I was angry enough at him for hurting me again and strong enough in myself to move on he called. He sounded so weak and so small, like he needed me and I caved in. Of course it didn't work out. unless he was a totally different person I pretty much knew it wouldn't. The reason why I didn't say anything to y'all is because, frankly I was embarrassed. Trust me, I'm hardly deluded about this sorta thing. I fully realize that going back to something for the fifth time that has failed all four previous times is stupid and destined to fail again, but I walked back into again anyway. Why?

I look at my relationship with Pubby like a drug addiction. It's like doing "coke" (cocaine) or "ex" (ecstasy) or "k" (ketamine or "special k") or crack or whatever the kids are doing in the clubs now. You know it's stupid and no good for you and will only lead to your downfall but you indulge in it anyway because it feels good at the time and you think it makes you look cool while clean people look at you like you're a stupid ass druggie and make fun of you behind your back and to your face sometimes, but you're too high to notice. The good days with him, the highs of our relationship were so high and everything was so great, but those bad days with him, when we were arguing, coming down from that shit was the worst. It's like something a drug user once told me about using drugs "no high is better than your first high and every time you use drugs you try to achieve that first high again". Yeah, but you just said that no high is better than your first high and that there's no way you can get that again so why keep trying? You're only killing yourself. Stupid, huh? Exactly. When the rationale behind my participation in a bad relationship became congruent to that of a drug user I knew it was definitely time to take my ass to relationship rehab. I'm not 100% sure exactly what that is yet but I know that that I cannot do anymore. So I quit, cold turkey and this time it feels easier than it's even been before. Whenever I feel weak I'll have to remind myself of how terrible the lows were and how fucked up my future would be if I were to continue this vicious cycle.

Like most recovered drug users who curse the first day they ever messed with their drug of choice sometimes I wish I never met Pubby. If only I could go back and do it all over again, to spare myself all of the drama of the past months. They say it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. I'll have to respectfully disagree. That whole thing I really didn't need. I can't think of anything I gained from it that was worth all the stress. I guess it is what it is. I don't regret it. I know that everything happens for a reason, but if I'd known then what I know now I wouldn't have let things go down quite the same way. Lesson learned, even though I had to get left back five times.

Another thing about drugs, my lovely readers. I make a lot of jokes here, but I'm really serious about this. If any of you are doing drugs please stop. There is nothing cute or fabulous about it. As of late, being out and about, I've been around drug users and it's really not a game. Even if you feel that your addiction is "manageable", that in itself is an oxymoron, nothing about addiction is manageable. You see it all over TV and magazines all these celebrities and starlets, the so-called "Young Hollywood" sect, your Lindsay Lohan's, your Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen's, your Britney Spears' and people like that stumbling in and out of clubs and off to rehab centers. This shit is NOT okay. These people have all kinds of issues inside that have led them to act out in such ways and all the money in the world hasn't been able to heal them. There's nothing healthy about this behavior and the fact that young people across the world try to emulate this shit because they think it's cute is crazy. I sure as hell don't get it. I didn't even think that black folks got down with that drug shit like that besides a little weed here and there (and even that isn't good), boy was I wrong. These kids pop pills and sniff coke like its going out of style. And it's not even a new thing, I just never paid much attention to it before, but it was happening right under my nose (forgive the pun). So if you're in a club and someone offers you a drug please just say no. And if you are currently using drugs don't be afraid to get help. And if you have friends that do drugs get them some help too. The last thing I need is to step over some drugged out queen convulsing on a dance floor somewhere, dying over some perfectly avoidable shit. I thought they left that shit in the 80's.

Crack is wack.

Coke is a joke.

Hugs, not drugs.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Rehab"
by Rihanna
from the album "Good Girl, Gone Bad"
and
"Rehab"
by Amy Winehouse
from the album "Back To Black"
and
"Addictive"
by Truth Hurts
from the album "Truthfully Speaking"
and
"Fanatic"
by Vivian Green
from the album "A Love Story"
and
"The Way That I Love You
by Ashanti
from the album "The Declaration"
and
"Your Gonna Miss"
by Ashanti
from the album "The Declaration"
and
"So Over You"
by Ashanti
from the album "The Declaration"
and
"Stepping Stone"
by Duffy
from the album "Rockferry"
"I Wish"
by Carl Thomas
from the album "Emotional"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 11:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

Well, not to sound conceited or anything but I guess it is what it is... There was a time in my life where I wasn't as good looking as I am now. Not that I'm claiming to be the best looking guy in the world but I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge that I'd come a long way. Anyway, it's funny how there are those guys you tried to talk to, holler at, hit up online back in the day and they ignored you, dissed you, played you and paid you dust, you remember them? But then they see you now and their like all up on your dick, in my case literally, but we'll get to that later.

I remember this guy I met online a while back, in the spirit of the Democratic nomination, let's call him Barack. Barack asked me to come by his house and chill with him a while before he went to work, so I did. He answered his door kinda cute, short, lightskinned, petite, just the way I like 'em. He was a dancer too, I like dancers, they're flexible. After some small talk he announced that he was taking a shower. My dick jumped in mischievous delight at the thought that I knew what that gesture meant. When you're chillin' with a dude, especially a bottom, well that's who I always "chill" with so I guess that's all I know, says "I'm taking a shower" or "I'm takin' a shower real quick" that usually means that he's getting ready for sex. I thought we'd get a little quickie in before he went to work. In this case he was really just taking a shower. After the shower he came back into the room, naked and flirty, making sure I got a full view of his ass as he sashayed in and out of the room, getting ready for work. I thought I'd at least get some head out of the deal. No such luck. I walked him to work and that was that. That was until I got home later and over the phone I mentioned to him I was cooking that night. He asked me if I could go back downtown to his job and bring him some of my home cooked dinner. I did, he ate it and I ended up spending the rest of his shift with him. We laughed, we talked, he danced for me seductively. After the night ended I walked him home. As he turned the key and opened his door I leaned in behind him, just knowing that he was gonna let me in. He didn't, instead he turned around, gave me a grandma peck on the lips and never called me again.

Fast forward to December 30th, 2007. Out of the blue I get a call from Barack. He tells me that he'd heard about all the things I'd been doing, namely this blog and then he complimented my pictures. Then he asked me what I was doing for New Year's. At that moment I had no plans, but I certainly wasn't planning to do shit with him, not after the way he played me. We ran into each other on the street once and he's called once since then. I know he wanted to see me again. He was throwing all the obvious hints but I just wouldn't take the bait. Shit, if I wasn't good enough for him back then what the fuck would he think want to do with his ass now? Fuck that shit. Granted, I was horny as shit the day I met him and my mind was on one thing, at least for that moment but he still didn't have to just up and stop calling me. He could've told me that he didn't want to have sex that day, that woulda been cool. He was somebody I would have wanted to actually date, at least from the little I knew then, it wasn't all about sex, but he just kept throwing it in my face. Obviously he wasn't that in to me then and now I'm not into him.

Then there was this other guy, in the spirit of the Republican nomination let's call him McCain. McCain was a guy I hit up quite a few times online back in the day and he paid my ass no mind, just straight up ignored me. I thought he was so fine, but he obviously didn't feel me like that.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago. McCain hits me up online on some "Yo, whaddup? What's good?" shit. Even though a while had passed since the times I used to hit him up I knew exactly who he was. His pictures changed but he looked the same. I obviously didn't look the same, so much so that he didn't even recognize me. I hit him back and we ended up having a conversation online which ended with us exchanging numbers. My plan was to get him to my crib, fuck him, send him home and never call him again as my twisted revenge for the way he rejected me. After some thinking I got to thinking about how fucked up that little plan would be so I decided against it and left things alone.

One night a week or so later while at club with friends, who do I run into but McCain. I saw him, I gestured hello and migrated to another area. A few moments later while I'm in the bathroom I get this text from him: "U look really good tonight." I found him on the dance floor again and we started to dance, well, as y'all know I can't really dance, but they were playing reggae music so all I did was stand, backed up against the back wall as he grinded and twirled his ass up on my dick. In the midst of the grinding and twirling and his numerous grabs of my naked dick, his hands sliding down into my pants and underwear, I realized; damn, now that I met him he's not all that attractive to me, partly because of the way he rejected me before and partly because he just wasn't all that attractive to me and he has a tongue ring. I HATE TONGUE RINGS (no offense to my tongue ring wearing readers but hey, ya like what ya like). He was grinding up all over me, into me, feeling me, I should be enjoying this but my dick wouldn't even stay hard.

After that night he was calling my phone HARD. I mean, yeah I coulda had him come to my crib, had him suck my dick, fucked him senseless and sent him on his way, but why? That would be mean, but what's even meaner is just straight ignoring his advances. When someone is basically giving the ass away and the other person doesn't take it, that must make that first person feel like shit, less than shit, shit's shit. So he continued calling me and texting me "Yo pa, what's good?", "When we gon' chill?", "I feel like a stalker, y r u not answering my phone calls?" He's just not getting it. Well, back in the day I didn't get it either, but he'll learn. I did.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"If I Could"
by Dru Hill
from the album "Dru World Order"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 10:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

So I'm talking to someone new and like all men, he found a new way to fuck shit up, you know with the usual selfish bullshit, story of my blog, story of my life, blah, blah, blah, so not going into details. I can drive down this road with my eyes closed at this point. Just when it seems like things are going well... Whatever, I'm used to it now. This morning as I left his house, pissed that I left my jacket that I'll have to end up having to back come and get later, totally fucking up my dramatic Hollywood exit and even more pissed at developing a tickle in my throat due to this unpredictable spring weather here in New York and the fact that he must sleep under air conditioning, even though it's not even that hot.

I got home and got a call from Derrick (Thank God for good-good girlfriends and bro-sises, what would we ever do without them?) and as we updated each other on our individual situations I began to contemplate on what it's all about, relationships that is and why I even bother anymore, ya know? Just then I began to realize that maybe the simple things that I expect and then reluctantly have to ask repeatedly and damn near beg for from a man may just really be too much for them to handle. At that moment I gave up. I let go of all expectations of finding a man and being happy with him. As much as I don't want to become a bitter, jaded, defeated queen I'm just tired of my story being so tragic. It's like every blog post lately if it's not one of my many shining achievements it's "he did this to me", "he did that..." it's so tragic. I mean, damn, aren't y'all tired of reading that shit, I know I'm damn sure tired of writing it and living it. I remember when my blog used to be fun and people used to laugh. Lately it's just been a downer.

I'm thinking it's because I feel so much. I'm nice, I'm sensitive, I'm loving. It makes me happy to help and love people, especially those who I'm with. I'm letting my heart drive the car and I keep crashing into shit or rather letting shit crash into me, like Janet Jackson or some shit. "I shoulda stopped at the redlight cuz, now I'm like a deer caught in headlights..." "He crashed into my heart..."

A friend of mine at a major publishing house sent me a book called "A$$hole: How I Got Rich And Happy By Not Giving A Damn About Anyone" by Martin Kihn. It's the true story of a man who much like me was a nice guy, trying to make everybody happy, trying not to offend anyone. As a result he was living a mediocre existence, much like the one I swore on this very blog that I wouldn't live. I haven't finished the book yet but the overall message is that people who are little more assertive about their shit and even a little bitchy and asshole-ish about it get what they want in life by being a thinker and not a feeler. As a result I don't feel that it's them, it's him, it's her that hurts or is hurting me as much as I allow myself to be hurt by exposing vulnerable parts of myself to those theys, hims, and hers. They don't expose those parts to me and that's how come they can walk away from me unscathed while I'm drinking until I puke and writing dark poetry, but I digress. One of my secret goals this year was to be a little more bitchy and asshole-ish with people and I have to say that it's been working for me.

As I continued talking with Derrick I walked I went over to make myself a cup of tea for my throat. As I listened intently to Derrick, dipping my tea bag up and down in the hot water, allowing it to steep I noticed something that I never saw before. There was writing on the back of the little paper handle that's attached to the string of my tea bag, it was a quote. Since when did they start putting quotes on tea bag handles? I was halfway through the box of tea bags and I'd never noticed this before until today. I read the handle:

"The world is a tragedy to those who feel, but a comedy to those who think" -Horace Walpole (1717 - 1797)

Nuff said.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Luv"
by Janet Jackson
from the album "Discipline"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

I've started typing this blog post at almost 4am, early Easter Sunday morning. This seems to be the only time I have to actually sit and blog nowadays, I've been ridiculously busy lately. My head hurts a little, probably from all the wine I drank today, yesterday I should say. I should be asleep right now but I know I haven't really blogged, blogged with y'all in a minute. We haven't talked in a while, me and you, my reading public. I value you guys more than you realize. Remember, if you see me on the street don't be afraid to come up and say "Hi." I realize that we all may not know each other personally, but some of the opinions, advice, and straight up fierce ballroom girl reads that we've shared over the past thirteen months have been more substantial in my life than those I've shared with people I've known for years. Anyway, thanks, keep the cards and letters coming.

Last Easter, Sunday, April 8th, 2007, I wrote a blog post entitled "Companionship. An Idea Resurrected", in which I spilled the beans that I was in a relationship. Oddly enough this Easter I find myself in the same situation, but with a different man, obviously, but for some of you not so different. I'll explain later. Like our Lord Jesus, companionship, a notion I thought was pretty much dead for me again has miraculously managed to rise again. It's Sunday now but I originally started this post last Friday (Good Friday) morning.

=====

I woke up early this Good Friday morning at about 7:30. It's not that I actually wake up that early on the regular, I just had to pee really bad. As I rose from my bed I saw him there asleep, curled up like a little shrimp (I know it's a bad simile, but it's accurate), I smiled. A few moments later when I came back to bed he scooted back into me, we spooned and fell back asleep. Looking at him I thought about all we'd been through to get to this moment and I silently thanked God for it all, the good and the bad. I also thanked God for all that Jesus had gone through on this day, thousands of years ago. A Good Friday indeed.

Last time we talked I was dating Mr. Bojangles, the dancer who was also a virgin, remember him? Well things didn't work out between us. It didn't end badly and he's a great guy, very nice, cute, comes from good stock. He's definitely the quote-unquote "perfect guy" on paper, he's just wasn't perfect for me. And who the fuck was I kidding, me and a virgin, c'mon, it was doomed before it started. Even with all that, sex itself, or in this case the lack thereof wasn't the deal breaking issue for us, well, rather me. Obviously I knew going in that we weren't having sex and I was cool with that, I mean, I guess we'd have sex someday, when we're ready, when he's ready, after a few moths or so, right? But like most twenty-something virgins, Mr. Bojangles seemed to vilify sex, like it was a bad thing and I actually felt uncomfortable talking about sex or being sexual around him. I'm a guy, I'm a sexual guy, I like sex, I talk about sex, I write about sex, I make sexual jokes sometimes, but I couldn't really do that around him. He just seemed so prudent at times. It made me uncomfortable. But even that wasn't the real reason why I broke things off with him. As nice as it was being with him just didn't feel right.

So, being with Mr. Bojangles wasn't right, being with '08 wasn't right, being with Winston wasn't right. As nice as all these guys were and as much as they all genuinely liked me, I broke it off with all of them. Why? I know why, I know exactly why. But I was afraid to say, afraid to write, but I know why. It's because I still have feelings for Pubby. As hard as that was for me to say, as embarrassing and humiliating as it is to say, especially after all the times we'd broken up and gotten back together and all the declarations I made, vowing to never speak to him again after the way he hurt me with his neglect and indecisiveness. I can't help it. I missed him. We had our bad times but when we're together it was great, like we were the only two people in the world, looking into his eyes and him looking in mine. Even after our thing was all over I thought often of him. Little did I know he was still thinking of me too.

//===> SIDE NOTE: If you're new and have no idea who Pubby is. The best way to get into our saga is to read the "Dating" section of the blog from January 9th, 2008 back to September 18th, 2007. he's all in there. I mean you ain't gotta read everything, just give it a liberal skim just to catch yourself up. <===//

It went down like this. Pubby and I had our final knock-down, drag-out argument via email and text message via text and email right before New Years. We said a lot of mean things to each other. That day, December 30th, 2007 I believe, I decided that I didn't wanna take this dysfunctional, one-sided, relationship-like thing we had into a New Year. Although I still had feelings for him, that day was the day those feelings started to fade. As usual, after our breakups he extended the option to me to remain friends and as usual after our breakups I didn't accept it because I figured that the best and fastest way to get him out of my system was to remove him from my life altogether. Besides, I wanted to be his man, not his friend, fuck that shit.

So for a few weeks we didn't talk and reluctantly, I was back on the dating scene, totally unhappy. He went back to his ex. A relationship which he has described as on and off, rocky and tumultuous for a good part of the few years they'd been together. Every so often he would text me and I'd text back. We had textual small talk, so to speak, which would usually end when one of us got bored and stopped the text chain. We even grew to having conversations as friends. Even though I was trying my best to be friendly, I still longed for Pubby. But I fell back because he was back with his ex. No matter how good you are and no matter how much you bring to the table, the one thing you can't fuck with is history, history, experiences and memories. I also figured that the reason why he basically chose his ex over me is because his ex is "that guy", I mean that's what they tell me.

Let me explain who "that guy" is. Pubby and I are total opposites, he likes to party, I like to stay home, he's a socialite, working the crowd, I'm a homebody, who'd rather chill with just me and my people, he wears Gucci, I wear the Gap. People like him and his ex are "that guy" and I'm "the other guy". We're your basic opposites attract story, like "The Odd Couple". He's the Felix Unger to my Oscar Madison. If this were "Sex And the City" I'd be the Aidan Shaw to his Carrie Bradshaw, which is hilarious because people call me "the black gay Carrie Bradshaw". But anyway, he's creme brulee and I'm "granola", as Samantha Jones would say. The thing about me though is that I'm perfectly happy being granola, Gap & Levi's, plain construction Timbs and all white Nikes, mid-priced retail guy. Shit, say what you want about granola, it's not the fanciest food in the world, you probably won't see it in the fancy haute cuisine magazines, but granola is solid, filling and healthy. Once you crack through the hard fancy shell of creme brulee all you're left with is some cheap-ass, glorified Jell-O pudding that will leave you hungry again in an hour.

Though I enjoy it in Pubby, and I think he looks great, I personally have no desire to be high fashion, socialite guy. I don't even like clubs and I can't stand being around all those shady, fake-ass people. It just makes me wanna run to the DJ booth, grab the mic and yell out: "Where all the real niggas at?" But I guess I'm just ghetto that way. I'd rather go out to Applebee's, TGIFridays, or BBQ's or even a nicer restaurant or even just a nice bar and just eat, drink and wild out with my people. Fuck pretenses and cliques and labels and shit, you know how much money those people spend on clothes, it's insane. I have much better ways to spend my hard earned money. Fuck Balenciaga and McQueen and Gucci and all them, I'd much rather have my dude look good naked than with all that label shit on. Who cares? Surprisingly, Pubby actually likes my outlook on things, he calls me practical, he says somebody has to be.

Like I said, Pubby's ex, like him is also "that guy", another creme brulee. I met him once, he seems nice enough, nothing against him, but that life's not for me. I also know that as cute as a secluded moonlight stroll on the granola side of town is for a creme brulee like Pubby, I also live in the real would and in the real world you don't often find creme brulee and granola served at the same restaurant. Jean Georges don't serve no damn granola and Applebees don't know what the a fuck creme brulee is. So where does that leave us? As much as he liked me, would he be truly comfortable having my unabashedly granola ass around his friends in their candy coated creme brulee world is the question. And as much as I liked him how much creme brulee could I stomach is my next question. So that's where we were left December 30th, breaking up for the third time, with him saying that we were incompatible and me telling him to go fuck himself for wasting my time. As time went on I accepted that even though a part of me still wanted him, that we were just too different for it to work and even though there was magic when we were alone, we couldn't lay up in bed forever. We had to face the world sometime.

One afternoon last month Pubby invited me to a friendly, catch up lunch with him. We dined at one of the restaurants inside the Metropolitan Museum Of Art. Since at that point I was technically over Pubby, newly dating Mr. Bojangles, I did something I'd never done. I went to that lunch with Pubby looking a total mess. I had some regular jeans on, my fucked up gray New Balance workout sneakers (I was going to the gym after lunch) and a hoodie that I paid $19.99 for at Modells. I was in need of a haircut and I had my glasses on. He'd never seen me so rough before, since Pubby was so fancy I always felt a need to impress him with my appearance, I mean at least as much as a hunk of granola possibly could. But at that point, his toothbrush was in the garbage and we were officially over, fuck the bullshit, who the fuck was he that I had to impress him, fuck that. He saw the real fuckin' me that day. The funny thing is that he never commented on my appearance. He was just happy to see me again, it'd been so long.

As we talked I could see the hurt in his eyes as he talked about the break up of him and his ex, the final nail in the coffin. He went on to tell me about the new guys he was seeing at the time. They sounded pretty wack to me, that shit wasn't gonna last, I know Pubby and I knew he wasn't really into those dudes like that. Filled with all the hope that the prospect of a new relationship brings I told him about Mr. Bojangles and he was equally as impressed. The defining moment of our meeting is when he turned to me, looked into my eyes and said something to the effect of:

"I know we've gone through a lot of shit but I've always thought that once I got my shit together and you got you shit together that somehow we'd end up together."

I always thought the same thing.

Fast forward to a few weeks later and here we are, together. Throwing caution to the wind and saying fuck the world and fuck everyone else who doesn't see it, bitches better open their eyes or get some fuckin' glasses or bifocals or contacts some shit. Although things have been going great, for us so far the going hasn't always been easy, especially for me. If you've been reading you'll know that Pubby hurt me real bad last time around. How will I know he won't hurt me again? I don't. (That's why I wrote this poem.) All I can do is trust him. Well I'm not just trusting in him blindly, I'm not that stupid. My trust is being built through his actions. Remember my relationship theory:

"If a man really wants to do something he will do it. Period."

I'm talking about effort. We're gy but we're also men and if a man wants you he's gonna make an effort toward you. Phone calls, text messages, dates, visits, show me you want me nigga. So far he's been on point, passing every test. I'm not sure what happened when we were apart but Pubby is like a different person now, like Damascus Road different. I even teased him and asked him whether he'd had a visit from the Ghost Of Christmas Future. He's so attentive and caring and real now, it's almost scary. The cynical faggot inside me perpetually asks the question of whether it's just a phase, but if I'm gonna be happy I can't give in to that.

Now I'm seeing past all the superficial shit. Sure he's still a party boy who likes fashion and labels, that's not gonna change and I'm cool with that, but he's also my dude that I can eat bad Chinese food with, on the bed, chillin, watching "John Tucker Must Die" (smile). He's opened up to me now. I get to see the Pubby that the world doesn't get to see. Behind the makeup, ponytails (smile), smoke and mirrors and I realized that we're not so totally different after all. I always thought that all that fierceness and indecision was just a defense mechanism anyway. It was. He told me that he's wanted to be with me for a while, but was fighting it tooth and nail, scared of opening up and being hurt again. He recently told me that he's stopped fighting. Call me crazy, call me a fool, but I'm happy. We'll see.

HAPPY EASTER!

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Fallin'"
by Alicia Keys
from the album "Songs In A-Minor"
and
"Clumsy"
by Fergie
from the album "The Dutchess"
and
"Trippin' (That's the Way Love Works)"
by Toni Braxton
from the album "Libra"
and
"Still Open"
by Syleena Johnson
from the album "Chapter 3 - The Flesh"
and
"Opposites Attract"
by Paula Abdul
from the album "Forever Your Girl"
and
"Bump What Ya Friends Say"
by Fantasia
from the album "Fantasia"
==========

==========
Today's Throwback Blog Post:
See, The Reason Why My Relationships Never Work Out Is… (Part 1)
Originally posted April 7th, 2007
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 07:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

"The sex is just immaculate, from the back I get
Deeper and deeper, help ya reach the,
Climax that your man can't make,
Call him, tell him you'll be home real late..."
  -Notorious BIG
   from the song "One More Chance (remix)"

"How you like it baby? Uhh, from the front,
Uhh, from the back, give that ass a smack,
Bet your man won't do it like that,
Can't work the middle, plus his thing too little..."
  -Diddy
   from the song "No Time" with Lil' Kim

Late one night, two years ago, at two o'clock in the morning I was online IM-ing with this guy, let's call him Anderson. Anderson and I had been talking off and on sparingly via IM and telephone for about a year or so but for whatever reason had never actually met. We'd exchanged pictures and I was definitely attracted to him and I was pretty sure that the feeling was mutual. Our IM conversation that night turned sexual. As things were getting hot and heavy Anderson asked me to come see him. As badly as I wanted him I was having second thoughts due to the fact that it was already 2am and he was about an hour and a half away on the subway, but he was fine, I was horny, I didn't have to work until the afternoon the next day, so I thought, fuck it I'll go and I went.

I was so tired on the train that I missed my transfer stop, dozing in and out of sleep, the things we do for sex. You'd think that after missing my stop that I'd be deterred from my mission. But nope, not at all, common sense be damned, this was a sure thing. I have wanted to fuck this dude ever since the first time I saw him online and dammit we fuckin' tonight.

I finally get to his house and see him for the first time, he's fine, better than he looked in his pictures. I sat on his bed, I got comfortable and we stumbled through awkward small talk until he kissed me, shutting me the fuck up. Then it was on, the clothes somehow came off and I fucked him, longstroking from the back, watching my dick slide in and out of him, talking more shit than a porno movie. "Yeah, you like that?" "What's my name? What's my motherfuckin' name nigga?" "Who's dick is this?" "Who's ass is this?" "Who's ya daddy nigga?" "Is this what the fuck you been wantin' nigga?" "Tell me you love my shit nigga!" "Gimme that ass nigga!" All while he moaned my name, burying his head in his pillows. We ejaculated, we fell asleep. I woke up a few hours later so I could have enough time to get ready for work.

I called him later that day, no answer. The next day, no answer. No answer to my IM's online either. What the fuck? We have sex and now he doesn't wanna talk to me anymore. He's one of those faggots, the ones who can let a nigga fuck them and that's it. Aight, I see how it is. So after a few days I stopped calling, shit, fuck that, I'm not running after him, I already fucked him already so I guess I got I wanted, even though I really wanted to get to know him better. I still wondered why he didn't want to talk to me though, what had I done wrong? Dealing with men has taught me though that sometimes it's just better not to even ask why because you'll drive yourself crazy. I'm a man and I still have yet to figure men out. It's just best to take whatever good there is from a situation, put that in your pocket and move on, for your own sanity.

A few days after I decided not to even think about Anderson anymore and accept the nutt for what it was, he hits me up online, of course, once I'm over it and finally feeling somewhat okay about things, of course. He tried to make small talk and explained his behavior. He proceeded to tell me that he was actually talking to someone else at the time when we had sex and that he and that person were on the eve of becoming more serious. I was basically the last hoorah, the fireman stripper that the bride let fuck her the night before the wedding. He asked me whether we could be friends. I proceeded to cuss his ass out and tell him to never speak to me again. From then on I was hurt, I really liked Anderson. We talked on and off for like a year. I wanted to at least have a chance with him. Why did he do that to me, why did he just use me like that just to sow his last wild oats. Why didn't he tell me what the deal was? And who the fuck was this guy anyway? What made him so special that he could roll over from me and back to him? I know I did I good job in that bedroom, you can't fake that shit. What did he have that I didn't have? I guess him and his dude had a preexisting emotional connection. I just wish he hadn't used me for his cruel relationship experiment and had me get my feelings all involved.

A few months later I went out with a friend, who introduces me to his friend, let's call this friend Wayne. Me my friend and Wayne go to a party. On the way back home my friend falls asleep leaving me and Wayne awake. Wayne starts to talk to me, flirting with me in the most crass, vile and slightly drunkened way possible. There was not a damn thing attractive about Wayne, at least not to me, especially now with him drunk-ish and his breath smelling awful. He's flirting with me and I'm so not interested, yet he persists, fueled by an empty, overly ambitious, mind numbing, class, league, and caste unconscious bravado that only liquor can give. This dude was not only unattractive, disrespectful and inexplicably cocky, he was trying to fuck me. After I finished laughing and let him know that I was a top and that I'm not getting down like that. He let me know that he's on his way to his shorty's house as a segue into finding out where I live, as if I'm gonna tell him. He just doesn't stop. The next day after I told my friend what happened, about how his friend tried to pick me up, he let me know who Wayne's "shorty" was. I was the stripper, Anderson was the bride, and Wayne was the groom. Anderson stopped talking to my for Wayne's sorry ass! Is he serious, yuk! He must have gotten into his whole bad boy-ish, homo thug thing he had going. Whatever, good for them. If he liked it I loved it. By that time I was way over Anderson anyway. I just laughed and kept it moving.

About a week or two later I get an IM from Anderson. By this time I had a new screen name but somehow he found me. He apologized for all that had happened and wanted to make amends with me. I agreed, we exchanged numbers and then he called. He began to tell me about all the problems he was having with Wayne, as he didn't know that I knew who Wayne was yet, and I listened. Later in the convo I admitted that Wayne and I had met. He alluded to the fact that people say that he's too good for Wayne, almost in a way that made him sound ashamed of Wayne. He then asked me what I thought, but I'm way too much of a politician to answer questions like that. Then he told me that sometimes he wishes that he had chosen me over Wayne. I have to admit that statement did bring me some ill-gotten joy. If I were petty I would have told him how Wayne tried to pick me up that night a while back but I didn't, some things are better left unsaid. After that night Anderson and I became friends.

As time went on our friendship became stronger and stronger. We worked not to far from each other so there would some days here and there where we'd have lunch together. The main course served would always be Wayne and his latest caper. About how Wayne would cheat, or lie, or say something fucked up or any combination of the three. I never understood why Anderson let Wayne play him the way he did. Wayne would never let him have any friends. Wayne never liked for him to go anywhere without him. Wayne didn't even know about the lunches we had together. He let Wayne get in his head and totally fuck up his confidence. Anderson would always complain about how he looked, how he couldn't do this, couldn't do that, just negativity all the time. I wanted the old Anderson back.

I told Anderson that I would like to come out to his boyfriend, the two of us being friends, without disclosing our sexual history because at that point I felt totally platonic toward Anderson. My sexual feelings turned into feelings of friendship, brotherhood and now sorrow toward Anderson. I wanted to be able to take him out and have him chill with me and my friends and have some fun and not be stuck in the house waiting on Wayne all the time. I wanted him to see himself as beautiful, like I saw him. He told me that Wayne would never like the idea of us hanging out because I'm a top like he is. He would be afraid of us messing around behind his back.

It's like I knew him but I didn't know him anymore. This was not the person I had talked to and first met over a year ago. He was so empty, it's like Wayne had taken over his mind or something. I remember asking Anderson one day "Does Wayne hit you?" It was crazy, he was like a battered wife or something, a glutton for punishment, but why? Wayne ain't got shit? What was he getting out of this? It baffled me. Seeing someone who I was once so attracted to succumb to this made him so unattractive. Through it all Anderson would still flirt with me and still tell me that he should have chosen me. I would always counter, turning things around, bringing it right back to Wayne, saying things like "Would your husband like it if he heard you talking like that?" and "Does Wayne know you're talking to me?" Anderson would get so mad at me when I did that. But I had to show him how foolish he was.

A few months later Anderson texted me, getting at me hard on the sexual tip. I did my usual Wayne counter but it didn't work that day because Wayne was out of town. So I came over and we talked and I ended up fucking him. I fucked Anderson longer, harder, and rougher that I did the first time and it felt better than the first time. As I fucked Anderson I felt like I was fucking Wayne's sorry ass too. I was hurting him for how he hurt me all the times he hurt my friend, cheating on him, and saying all that fucked up shit, for how he tried to holla at me like I was some fuckin' bird-ass nigga. So yeah Wayne, fuck you, fuck you and now I'm fucking your boyfriend and he's loving it, saying my name, calling me daddy and all that.

After we finished having sex as we were putting our clothes on I was in the mirror, looking at myself, feeling like the motherfucking man when Anderson said to me. "Wow, it's been a long time since I've taken a dick that large. I hope Wayne doesn't notice. I may have to take a bath in some Epsom Salts before he gets back." After I questioned that statement he went on to tell me that Wayne's dick is small, I mean, not really small, but not really big either, but considerably smaller than mine, and smaller than most people would think, given his bravado, swagger, thug appeal, etc. Even I had to admit I thought that the brotha must have been packin', I mean after the bravado he put up when tried to talk to me and the way that he has Anderson's mind all fucked up, I just knew he was tearin' it up in the bedroom. That had to be why Anderson has stayed this long. Anderson went on to tell me that it has even caused problems in their relationship. It's not even that Anderson is dissatisfied with Wayne's size but it's that Wayne is dissatisfied with it himself. He's also super self-conscious about it. That explained a lot Wayne's behavior, the cheating, the belittling of Anderson, he wanted to feel like a "real man", and here's the root of it all, laying bare and exposed before me, to manipulate at my leisure. This made things even more sweet.

That wasn't the end of the sex-capades between me and Anderson, we met again and again once with him sucking my dick, and me fucking him again, we even snuck off and made out in a club bathroom once. Knowing that I could literally satisfy him in ways his man couldn't, hitting spots his man couldn't, was an amazing, euphoric feeling that last way beyond the last cumshot. Looking down at my phone and seeing text messages saying "I need that big ass dick again Daddy..." and hearing him say "He fucked me last night and I closed my eyes wishing it was you..." is an ego boost that can't be described. He had his head, he had his heart, but that ass was mine. Seeing them out together places, having Wayne say "Whaddup?" to me, thinking that we only know each other from the night he tried to talk to me, hoping I don't spill the beans to his boyfriend that he thinks I don't know, not knowing that I've been fucking his boyfriend all along, and even not seeing the sly wink his boyfriend gives to me as we talk, it was wrong. I was wrong, we all were wrong and using each other. Although it wasn't my only intention, I was using Anderson, my friend for sex, an ego boost. Anderson used me to make himself feel desirable and as a way to get back at Wayne, an ego boost, he also used me for sex. Wayne was using Anderson for validation, an ego boost, someone he could treat like shit and would still be there, someone he could pick up and put down at his leisure.

Anderson has never answered my question, what does Wayne have that I don't have? But as I said, sometimes it's just better not to even ask why because you'll drive yourself crazy. At this point I don't even care anymore because I don't want a romantic relationship with Anderson anymore, we're not even messing around anymore. All of this is in the past. I've just taken an evil solace in the fact that any time I look at Wayne for the rest of our lives I'll be able to say that "my dick is bigger than yours."

==========
Playing In The Background...
"One More Chance (remix)"
by Notorious BIG
from the album "Ready To Die"
and
"No Time" feat. Diddy
by Lil' Kim
from the album "Hard Core"
and
"Not Big"
by Lily Allen
from the album "Alright, Still"
and
"Taken"
by Cherish
from the album "Unappreciated"
and
"She Don't Have To Know"
by John Legend
from the album "Get Lifted"
and
"Wish U Was My Girl"
by Babyface
from the album "Face2Face"
==========

Now I realize that that's a very petty and shallow way to be, I totally realize that. It's a terrible thing way to be. But what's interesting to see is that no matter who, what, or how much we have, and how smart and evolved that we say we are, that we as humans, especially male humans that we are all still animals. At the end of the day the most important thing to almost every man, gay or straight is the size of his dick and the validation it gets or doesn't get him. It was important to me, Wayne was obsessed with it and I'm sure it's somewhat important to you.

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 06:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

So I went on a date Valentine's night. I can't really describe it as a Valentine's Day date so much as a first date that just happened to have taken place on Valentine's Day, a total coincidence. The guy I went out with was the one I told you guys about the other day, the one I met a few weeks ago and saw at the HIV/AIDS discussion forum in Greenwich Village last week. He's really cute, totally my type, sexy, very smart and into helping the community, which is doubly sexy, and a dancer, which makes him flexible and that's triple-ly (yes, I just made up that word) sexy, and I know that will come in handy whenever we, well, you know, have sex. So for that reason, we're gonna call this one, Mr. Bojangles.

Bojangles and I met up Thursday night and ended up dining at Cafe Mozart on the Upper West Side. Once seated inside the cafe, cheezily decorated with corny Valentine's shit, we talked over our endive salads. I found out during the convo that he was attracted to me before I even approached him. The eye contact was good, he looked good, definitely my type. I could definitely see myself being something with this dude. The conversation eventually veered toward sex, as it always does and that's when he dropped the bomb on me. He told me that he was a virgin, yes a virgin, like he's never had sex before, virgin. I couldn't breathe. I held it together, but I couldn't breathe. You mean to tell me that this fine ass dude is a virgin. You know what that means... I ain't gettin' none no time soon, if ever. You know how virgins in their 20's are. They're all prudish, judgmental, sterile, and cold and don't like sex, they're weird. I mean they can't really like it because if they liked it so much they woulda had it already, ya know? And I mean, well you know, y'all know I'm a sexual person. He said he read my blog but did he really read it? I'm not necessarily tryna bone on the first date but I can't be with a dude who doesn't like sex. I mean, what he's doing is admirable. He went into the whole "I'm saving myself for the one I'm in love with" thing and that's all well and good but I don't know...

So I'm thinking, this is gonna be our first and last date. A dude like me can't possibly roll with no virgin. But I stayed cool, calmed down and got into the fact that Bojangles is a quality dude. He has everything I'm looking for, looks, brains, body, his work/school schedule works with mine, and he's really doing his thing as far as his career is concerned and most importantly, he's really likes me. Maybe he's the other half of the power couple I've always wanted to be in. There's no need to throw the baby out with the bathwater. I mean, at the end of the day, how important is sex anyway? Honestly, I haven't even been having sex much lately. Shyt, I been fucking all these years and what has it gotten me? So hey, everything happens for a reason. Just then my brain and my heart outvoted my dick and I decided to give homeboy a try. I mean, if we fall in love we're gonna be having sex anyway so what's the big deal if I have to wait a while for it. At least I got a quality dude that I can step out on the scene with and be confident that every dude in the place hasn't been with him and that's more than worth the wait. And I can't lie, a lesser part of me does really want to be the first to tap that, whenever he's ready, that is.

Even with that, I'm not sure exactly how this thing between me and Bojangles would work. I'm gonna feel him out a bit more, figuratively and literally and see. After the cafe we went to the 24hr Apple Store on Fifth Avenue, where I bought a new iPod. From there we got in a cab back uptown. When he got out of the cab we didn't kiss. I figured with him being a virgin he probably didn't kiss on the first date. I was right. When I got home he texted me, letting me know what a good he had. I had a good time as well. We even made plans for a second date.

On the second date, the next night I got a kiss, four of them. I was kinda apprehensive about going for it at first but I'm glad I did. It was electric. I like him. I told him that I was cool with waiting for sex, however long it took, but I also kept it real and told him that in order for me to be able to abstain with him that I would need to see him... a lot. I would need to have my mind fairly consumed with him. Like they say "an idle mind the devil's workshop." He couldn't be but so neglectful of me partly because I'm a Leo and I like attention and being with him, talking to him, knowing that he's there for me is the best way to insure that nothing happens. It's not that I don't have self control but every little bit of help helps. Nothing's set in stone yet but I could definitely see myself chillin' with Bojangles.

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Playing In The Background...
"The Show"
by Girls Aloud
from the album "What Will The Neighbours Say"
and
"Virginity"
by TG4
from the album "Time For The New"
and
"Virgin"
by Chico DeBarge
from the album "Long Time No See"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

Hey Everybody,

I just wanted to start by saying HAPPY VALENTINES DAY to you all. This is the first one we are spending together. Many of us, including me are single on this day but that's no reason to feel bad. At the Helmsley Hotel (of the Leona fame) they are throwing an anti-Valentine's Day bash tonight where people are encouraged to bring pictures of their exes to be placed in a large shredder. Models will also be on hand for partygoers to take pictures with so that they can send them to their exes, making it look as though they have a hot new boyfriend or girlfriend. See, this, even though it's all under the guise of fun is unnecessary. It's bitterness. If you are single today there's no reason to lash out on the holiday or on people who are in relationships. In fact, I've never had a boyfriend on Valentine's Day and that's okay. Instead of staying home tonight, being all bitter and over it go out to a bar or hang out with friends or call someone up an schedule a date for tonight, it's not even noon yet. Besides, there are so many singles functions going on tonight that you may even find yourself a new date. And if you decide to stay home, I mean, this is a work night, pamper yourself. Run that bubble bath you never have the time to take, buy yourself some chocolates or a new outfit, be good to you today, call your family and tell them how much you love them.

So, being the proactive, "walka, not a talka" person that I am, I managed to book myself a date for this evening. It's our first date, I don't know him all that well. We first met at a discussion event a few weeks ago after which I gave him my card and he hit me up on FaceBook. I saw him again last night at an open forum on HIV/AIDS prevention for black gay men. We exchanged numbers and after few subsequent text messages I asked him out on a date. He seems really nice and from what I've seen is pretty involved in the community. Despite the heavy expectations of love on Valentine's, the date is gonna be real light,  coffee, dessert and conversation. Of course, I'll let you know how that goes.

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Playing In The Background...
"Happy Valentine's Day"
by Outkast
from the album "Speakerboxx/The Love Below"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 11:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

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Hey everybody. I'm back. Thanks for holding me and the blog down while I was gone.

-Adam
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Remember that guy I told you about (in this post), the one I met last week? It's over. Yes, over before it even had a chance to begin. Let me tell you why.

When we meet people, like people, look to date people, there's certain things we want them to know. Stuff, you know, like their ABC's, how to talk, social graces, mingling, speaking to people, how to dress, how to fuck, or in my case, be fucked, how to suck dick, you know, all the things we like, everybody's different. The person could be damn near perfect, knowing everything and doing everything right. But I've seen time and time again that the one thing that can burst your bubble, that can pull the rug right up under you, that can pop the helium balloon of bliss you two are floating on is who you know. What's crazy is that in the largest city of the most powerful country in the world, with one of the largest black gay communities in the world that everybody knows everybody and the chances of you or your date having coincidental relationship or sexual overlap is damn near unavoidable.

So, yeah, I liked him but he knew somebody. He admitted it to me last night. He's friends with an ex of mine who is now a friend of mine and even though I'm not giving you much detail, trust me, going further with our relationship would definitely put a strain on the relationship between me and my friend. So I had a decision to make. A year ago I probably would have said, fuck it, he's cute, I like him, my friend will get over it. But today, I realize that possibly wrecking the great friendship with my ex that we worked so hard to attain after our breakup really wasn't worth it, even if the guy is cute. Who knows how me and the new date will feel about each other in two weeks? By then I could be over him or he could be over me, and then what? You know how the homos are. So I broke it off.

Last night, instead of bunking with a cute guy I snuggled up under the covers with my maturity. Bah humbug.

So that brings me to this week's poll question: Would you date a friend's ex? Vote in the poll below and tell us your opinion in the comments section.

Every week I will update the blog with a new poll question.
Click here to check out all the previous Adam's Web Log Polls.

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Playing In The Background...
"No More Drama (P. Diddy Remix)
by Mary J. Blige
from the album "No More Drama"
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PS: And you best believe I told my friend about this. Adam ain't nobody's fool.

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

"Bros over hoes," the age old pact between straight male friends that puts the value of their friendship above that of romantic relationships with women, or in this case, hoes. The concept seems to work so well for them, at least while the males are still young and not ready to marry. The partakers in this pact seem to realize that relationships, lusts and infatuations come and go but the brotherly bond between men can last a lifetime. It seems as though this is never the case for gay men, at least from what I've seen.

How many times have your gay friends ditched you for some date? How many times have your gay friends canceled plans with you for some date? How many times has a gay friend tried to flirt with, act sexually inappropriate toward, slept with, or straight up tried to steal your date? Not to mention the friends you've ditched, the plans with friends you've canceled and the friends dates you've slept with or stolen. Uh huh, thought so. I guess "bros over hoes" don't work so well when all the hoes are bros and vice versa.

The sad thing about all this though is the apparent absence of strong friendships between gay men. Is it all just a farce? Are our gay male friends really our friends or just people were not attracted to enough to sleep with or perhaps even just someone to keep us company between relationships? For many of us, our whole world seems to revolve around the presence or absence of a man. As much as we don't like to admit it, maybe we as gay men are more like the stereotypical straight woman than we think.

Comedienne, Mo'nique said in one of her televised comedy shows something to the effect of "When I leave, all the bitches in the house leave..." talking about how she doesn't trust other women around her man up to and including her Mama! While this bit got big laughs from the audience it exhibits a very serious problem that's no laughing matter. This sort of mistrust between women obviously can't be applied to all, but it's prevalence can't be denied. I'm sure we all know at least one woman that has exhibited this sort of behavior toward other women before as we also know at least one gay man who doesn't trust other gay men around his man, sounding familiar?

What's the main thing you see girls in the hood, girls on talk shows, and the girls you know fighting about? Men. He's my man, bitch! Don't look at my man, bitch! You can't have my man, bitch! That bitch tried to steal my man. The absence or presence of a man has split up the bonds between women all throughout the ages, aunts and nieces, mothers and daughters, sisters, shit, my sisters, they had a big falling out over a man last year. Often in a love triangle situation involving two straight women and a man the blame for it all is never even placed on the man, even though he's the cause of it all.

That same triangular situation between two straight male friends and a woman will usually turn out a little differently. Once the woman is found to be sleeping with both male parties involved they will usually write her off as a "ho", "a trick", or "just a piece of ass", give each other a pound/dap/hand shake, compare stories, have a beer and move the hell on. Even if the two straight men fight, that anger is usually only momentary, unlike the endless grudges, animosity, and shade that the gay men and straight women hold on to toward each other long after a situation has run its course. Looking at both situations it's quite peculiar that if a love triangle played out between three gay men that more than likely the two gay friends response would be more like that of the two straight women than that of the two straight men. When it happened to you what was your response like? Crazy, huh?

Relationships between gay men are so intense, yet fragile. The begin so suddenly, develop so quickly and break so easily. How many times have we let the men we love, like, stalk, date, obsess over, fuck, or let fuck us turn our whole world upside down, forsaking all others, friends, family, work, ourselves just to be with them? Lord knows I have. It's to the point now where if me or any one of my close friends gets with a guy we as the friends basically expect to be shafted for the date. How sad is that? We, me, you, I have to remember that life goes on whether we have a boyfriend or not and that no one's life should revolve so much around a person, boyfriend or friend that their presence makes or breaks us.

At the end of the day it's all about balance, bros don't have to necessarily be over hoes or vice versa. We just have to learn how to spread ourselves a little more evenly and not neglect anyone. While enjoying the splendor and excitement of a romantic relationship, especially when its new, we can't forget about our friends. Because once the date is long gone, I mean that is if things don't work out of course, your real friends are gonna be there for you, just like mine are there for me. Now I've gotta start taking my own advice.

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Playing In The Background...
"Over A Man"
by Sharissa
from the album "No Half Steppin'"
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Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

"On the kaleidoscope of love, people go 'round and 'round in circles.
Falling in love and feeling pain, but it's the player, not the game..."
-Lil' Mo
from the song "Player Not The Game"

It's all just a big motherfuckin' circle, life, the Earth, the universe, everything. From the dust we were formed and to the dust we will return, circle, circle, circle. Love is a circle too. Someone loves you and you love them right back and they love you back again. Isn't that a lovely circle? Some love circles however, aren't so lovely.

I know better than anyone that loving someone who doesn't love you back has to be the absolute worst emotional pain a person can feel. I know there are times where I've had my heart broken up so bad that it physically hurt. It was such a hopeless feeling and I knew that all the crying and pleading in the world wouldn't do a damn thing to help.

While were so deep in our own pains we never take the time to think of the pain that the one's who hurt us must be in. Surely, you don't believe that he is not in pain as well. Hurting people hurt people. As we pine over the ones we love so hopelessly we never take the time to ponder about the ones whom they pine over.

Yesterday I had the rare chance to have a real conversation with someone I used to be involved with. This was someone who I was ready to give my heart to but he wasn't ready to accept it. I wanted to be with him so badly, but he seemed to never have time for me. He'd be in my thoughts all the time but I wasn't in his. I could never say that he was vindictive about it, he never meant to hurt me, but at the time I guess he just wasn't that into me and that's not a crime, right? He was telling me about his feelings for his ex and how it's just off again, on again and how his ex never has time for him and that they're on the verge of getting back together but nothing's really changing and how it hurts him so.

As he was talking it occurred to me. While I was running after him he was running after someone else, no wonder he never had any time for me. While I sat at home alone at nights wondering how he could ever think someone could love him better than I could, this is the man he thought that could. Many of the things he said about his ex were statements right from my own lips about him. To hear them repeated to me with the same anguish and pain behind them was peculiar, odd, weird, yet comforting and life affirming, it was almost funny. Like, damn, I guess I'm not crazy.

Then I got to thinking about those who pine over me. While I was chasing him I could think of five other guys who were chasing me. Calling me, texting me, bothering me. I mean, sure they were there and I could have them if I wanted them but I didn't want them and I guess that's the same way he felt about me. I wanted him and he wanted his ex and the ex could quite possibly want something or someone else, who wants someone else, who wants someone else, who wants someone else and were all chasing each other around in a circle like idiots, wanting what we can't have. That's why I said in my "ADAM'S RELATIONSHIP THEORY" post a few months back that it's never good to even start running after a man. 'Cuz if you have to catch him, that's only because he's out tryna catch somebody else, so don't waste your time. If he really wants you he'll make himself available.

While I was putting him on this pedestal I never even realized that he could be doing the same thing for someone else. Wow. That's deep. How the mighty have fallen. That was such a revelation for me. All I know is that I'm not tryna get caught up in that circle again.

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Playing In The Background...
"Player Not the Game" feat. Carl Thomas
by Lil' Mo
from the album "Based On A True Story"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

I've been through a lot of drama as far as men are concerned. Just can't seem to find the right one, some are crazy, some are just mean, some just aren't right. I've had my heart broken, torn, shredded, frappeed, sauteed, sliced, diced, and julienned. As I've stated, lately I've been talking about putting my search for "the one" on the back burner and concentrating on my work, my new year's resolution list, this blog, my book, my writing in general, and all my other creative exploits. So instead of just running my mouth about it, as most people do, I've just been straight up doing it and whaddya know, the shit actually works.

Besides being incredibly productive, concentrating on my shit has really helped to boost my self-esteem and confidence in myself. It's when you see the the fruits of your labor spring forth that you can really appraise what your true worth is. I look back and it's like damn, look at what I have accomplished, I'm a bad motherfucker. Now I'm starting to see why people say all the good things they say about me. People can compliment the hell outta you and say that you're the best thing since sliced bread but until you believe it for yourself it's like they never even said it.

Needless to say I've been extremely busy lately. I've been going out to network and promote. I've been meeting all kinds of interesting people, some more interesting than you know... And simply because I've stopped looking for a boyfriend, dudes have been all over me lately. I'm trying my best not to sound conceited but it's true. Like, I'm cute... like, cute, cute. I'm really starting to realize that. I don't think I'm better than anybody else, I'm just a better me. Like, I look in the mirror and see a good looking guy who deserves the absolute best from anyone he sees fit to involve himself with. So even though there are dudes throwing themselves at me (sometimes) I'm just kinda like yeah, aight, I'm good. I've actually been turning (some) sex down lately. I just don't wanna do it if it's not right and I'm not really feeling the person like that. Because all I'm gonna do is fuck them and then have this open and needy person that I really didn't even want in the first place clinging to me like fuckin' velcro. To get my nutt off is just not worth that drama anymore.

So if you are out there in the dating rut that most of us are in, don't stress yourself about it. You're not alone. I know what you're going through and I'm cute! (lol) Instead of asking yourself why I ain't gotta man? What's wrong with me? Am I gonna end up alone? The real question you should be asking yourself is: Am I rich yet? Financially? Emotionally? Spiritually? If your answer to any of that question is no, then you got your priorities all screwed up, Lord knows mine were. Take this time you have to invest in yourself. If you write, write, if you draw, draw, if you sew, sew. Make your dreams come true. Once you've realized your full potential and become everything you want to be financially, emotionally, and spiritually, you won't have to look for a man, they'll be lining up waiting for you. Like really, who doesn't want a "rich" confident man?

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Playing In The Background...
"Gotta Work"
by Amerie
from the album "Because I Love It"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 10:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

Like Mama always says, first he'll leave his hat, then a pair of shoes, then an overcoat, next thing you know he done moved in. One thing this southern fried piece of colloquial wisdom fails to address is what's most often the first sign of a man's presence in our homes and quite possibly our hearts, the toothbrush. After a night of conversation, cuddling, or coitus he can easily leave in the clothes he wore from the night before to begin the day anew, but he ain't goin' but so far without brushing those teeth, at least I hope not. Romantic love can be fleeting and strikes at random, but morning breath remains a constant. So much so that I as well most singles I know keep a few spare toothbrushes around, you know, just in case.

Last night while preparing to take a take a shower, looking in the mirror, mercilessly critiquing myself, I looked to the right to notice that my silver mesh toothbrush cup runneth over with five toothbrushes. Five toothbrushes and only one belonging to me. Each cylindrical dowel of rubber and plastic crowned by an innumerable burst of synthetic fiber bristles, emblazoned with the name of some multi-million dollar dental care conglomerate, has it's own story to tell. Each one's owner having his place in my life, of varying degree and length, and possibly even in my heart.

Of the four guest toothbrushes only two of them I could connect to their owner. The unrecognizable pair I carelessly flung into the garbage pail, the other pair I pondered on for a moment. There was Pubby's toothbrush, an orange Colgate, a name brand, fancy, with all kinds of rubber lumps and bumps and grips, bristles cut on all sorts of angles, marketed as better than your standard toothbrush. It was a Colgate, it was a status symbol, it was fabulous, it was haute couture, sold individually and wouldn't dare be packaged with other brushes, perish the very thought. The other was Mr. Man's toothbrush, also orange, but of transparent plastic, good-intentioned, unpretentious, flat bristled and straight to the point. It's sole intent to remove tartar and to prevent plaque buildup and gingivitis. In an effort to shield it from germs it was the only toothbrush in the cup to have it's bristly crown almost hermetically wrapped with aluminum foil. Of all the brushes it was the only one who felt the need to be so guarded.

As I looked away from the pair of orange toothbrushes and back at myself in the mirror I questioned why I had held on to them for so long. Though Mr. Man and I are beyond amicable and are actually good friends now, he hadn't been here in months. Pubby and I are also over (no it's for real this time), we've agreed that we're so not right for each other. We'll be friends, we're just in that awkward limbo stage right now. Neither one of them I plan on having stay the night again. So why didn't I ever throw away their toothbrushes? Even though I'd physically let go was I subconsciously holding out for the chance of us sharing a night together again?

So with that I knew what had to be done. In order to officially move on I had to discard the last remnant of my past relationships, that last reminder of their preeminence in my life. So I lightly placed Mr. Man's toothbrush in my garbage pail and at a perpendicular angle I placed Pubby's toothbrush astride his, making the sign of the cross. Ashes to ashes, toothbrush to garbage pail, it is finished.

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Playing In The Background...
"Littlest Things"
by Lily Allen
from the album "Alright, Still"
and
"Best Of Me"
by Chrisette Michele
from the album "I Am"
and
"Just Like That"
by Kiley Dean
from the album "Simple Girl"
and
"Life Is Too Short"
by Mya
from the album "Liberation"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

I've noticed that my vision of what the perfect man for me is supposed to be is starting to change. In the beginning it was basically centered on looks, what I was attracted to. I always envisioned him to be a  petite bottom, with a fat ass, and a beautiful face. There was a time when that was all I dated, rarely deviating from the script. Along the way and along with the good I've encountered a few evil, petite, fat-assed, beautiful-faced, bottoms. It wasn't their physical attributes that made that few the evil, cold-hearted bitches they were. It was simply the fact that some bitches are just evil and once I was attracted to someone I rarely looked beyond the physical to discover who they really were and had established my feelings for them largely based on their looks. I was ready to jump right in without really seeking out the real them.

Sometimes when I happened to catch shades of their true personalities, I wasn't always happy with what I saw. Some would go as far as to warn me, telling me "Oh, Adam, you're so nice. You know, I'm really not a nice person like you are." I'd hear the warnings but I would never heed to them because they looked so right, it felt so right, or at least I thought it did, how could things ever be wrong? If I just love him with all I have and just give him all of me, everything will be okay, right? Wrong. And as you've read, things were wrong indeed. A lot of them either weren't ready for, or didn't know how to accept my affections or just really weren't that into me. The most evil of the lot saw my weakness and used it to play me. I should have known better. At the end of the day I can't even be mad, I'm not mad. It is what it is, lesson learned.

As of late I'm finding myself getting more and more into swagger with my aesthetic standards becoming less and less stringent. Confidence has become sexier too. It was always a plus but now it's a real turn on. A man who is sure of himself and is excelling in his field of work and/or interest is really hot to me. I'm also into realness. A man who can just keep it real with me from the beginning is very hot. No games, no pretenses. You wanna fuck nigga? Then let's fuck. You wanna eat nigga? Then let's eat. You wanna go nigga? Then let's go. You wanna stay nigga? Then let's stay. Do you like me? Yes or no. I like a man who tells me what's on his mind and doesn't expect me to know everything, like I'm Dionne Warwick or Ms. Cleo or somebody. 'Cuz Lord knows I have no problem expressing myself. And as much as I talk, and Lord knows I can talk, I enjoy a man that I could enjoy listening to as well, a man who stimulates both heads.

Now don't get me wrong. To a certain lesser degree, I still do uphold some of my aesthetic standards. I'm not gonna sit here and try to be on that looks-don't-matter, all-that-matters-is-the-heart bullshit. We all know that's bullshit and I have no problem telling people who say that bullshit that they're full of bullshit. I mean, we're men here, something's gotta get the dicks hard. There has to be some sort of physical attraction. I'm not tryna be with no ugly dude. So looks still matter somewhat, but I'm just not as anal about them and they don't hold the weight that they used to and as a result I've opened myself up to a whole lot more good guys (whoa, that last sentence so did not sound right). Rather than trying to find the perfect man for me I'm leaving myself open to the best man for me, whoever he may be.

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Playing In The Background...
"Doesn't Really matter"
by Janet Jackson
from the album "All For You"
and
"Why You Gotta Look So Good?" feat. Lloyd Banks
by Mya
from the album "Moodring"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

Wow, we haven't done a dating update in a minute. Where, oh where do we begin? Well, it's Sunday morning. Praise the Lord everybody. This is the part where y'all all say "Praise the Lord" back. Speaking of the Lord, back in the day, growing up in church, when someone stopped coming to church that person was called a backslider, a person who has fallen from or left from the way. In my dating life I'm also a backslider. In the past week I have totally done a 180 from the quote-unquote "more righteous" path of self denial I'd been etching out for myself in the past few months and I'm really enjoying it. I've also gone back to some people and situations I'd left behind. Reunited and I'm not sure how it feels... Just don't judge me.

Waking up drunken and dehydrated on Nathan's bathroom floor the Friday before last seemed to really put things in perspective for me. I'd been doing way too much and had been trying way too hard to prove that I was "enlightened" and the pressure got to me. I turned to a bottle of Grey Goose vodka for relief. I told you guys and everyone else about it. The general consensus was that I should relax and not be so hard on myself and just be myself in general. So here I am, don't judge me.

The first step to being me was letting all that Puritan shit go. I'm obviously nobody's prude and no one's Puritan. I let the Puritanical homos with their haughty-holier-than-thou attitudes and turned up noses convince me that the online dating thing was bad and beneath me. After forsaking the online thing and actually going out to meet people at parties, in clubs and in bars for the past three months and having a few experiences like the one I had a week and a half ago. I realize that online dating definitely isn't so bad, it's definitely much easier and at the end of the day is much more genuine and no-nonsense. So on December 24th I ended my 93-day hiatus and got back online. The experiment is over! This time though I didn't put up any dick pictures on my profiles in an effort to keep them a little more PG. I'm not trying to attract the casual sex, jumpoff element anymore and you know, with me doing all this stuff as far as the blog and my writing, it's just not the best look. On my BGC profile I even put the address to the blog, nothin' says lovin like free advertisement, don't judge me.

Speaking of lovin' I definitely appreciate the love I've been getting from you all online toward the blog. I've been getting hit up with messages from people telling me how much they enjoy the blog and that they are regular readers. I even got two messages on A4A yesterday from some readers welcoming me back online. "He's back" one of them said. Besides blog lovin' I've been getting plenty of messages about other kinds of lovin' as well:

On BGC I've been getting hit up pretty regularly. I even met up with a friend from college that I haven't seen in two years. We chilled yesterday, it was great to be able to catch up. I actually caught up with a few more friends on there including one of my really good friends who I always know is back in the city from college when I see him on BGC trolling for dates. (You know who you are. Smile.) I even donated some money and upgraded my BGC account so now I can view the mobile site on my Blackberry (Miss Berry the Second) and I can view the site regularly with no advertisements (including the pornographic ones) which means that I can browse BGC at work when I'm bored. BGC is funny, it's evolved from a dating/hookup site to more of a networking/friendship site. It's much more tame than it used to be. It's like the black gay MySpace now. Here's a link to my BGC page.

I signed up for A4A but you know an account there takes 24 hours to process. When I signed in for the first time on the 28th I had 42 new messages. Damn, what a welcome back. Unfortunately, maybe like two of them were actually desirable to me, but I appreciate the love anyway. I hardly ever talked to anyone from A4A anyway. The guys on BGC and even M4N are usually more attractive.

Speaking of M4N, their accounts take 24 hours to process as well. I logged in there for the first time on Friday as well and had 172 new messages. Damn, I thought there was a glitch in the system or something, but there were indeed 172 messages there. I went through all of those and only replied back to about four of them.

With all this messaging back and forth you'd think I would have met up with one of these people. I actually have not. I've exchanged some numbers had a few convos but that's about it. Out of sheer boredom, late Christmas night after my date with this new guy, ummm, it's Sunday and I'm feeling Biblical, lets call him Amos... Lemme digress a little. Amos, I met at that party I went to in Brooklyn, the Friday before last, the same day I got all drunk and pulled a Lindsay/Britney in Nathan's bathroom and went shopping afterward, yeah that day. Amos and I went to see "The Great Debaters" Christmas night, a great movie by the way. As far as the date I guess there was a little Chemistry, he seems like a cool guy, a fellow Leo, but I remember him being cuspy though, like really close to the Cancerous side of things. The conversation was good and there was even a little touching and hand holding during the movie but we didn't kiss at the end of the night though. Not even a kiss on the first date, what kinda Leo is that? There has been some light texting and a phone convo since then, we'll see, don't judge me.

Now where were we? Oh yeah, sheer boredom and shit. Okay, later that night, once I got back home I got a text from Robo-Munchkin. You remember Robo-Munchkin, he was Online Dating Horror Story #4. I first met him a few months back. Short story: he was this short top dude that was trying his hardest to try and fuck me (I'm a top as well) and I laughed in his face. It's actually a very funny story, read it and catch up. Anyway he texts me. I, not recognizing his number and not knowing who the hell he was asked him and he reminded me. Then he asks me if I'm up for having a threesome. I said no as I'm not particularly fond of those. Then he suggests that he come over anyway. I asked why and reiterated to him that I'm a top and that he is not, I repeat not gonna fuck me. He suggests we do oral. I told him that I wouldn't suck his dick either. I just knew that this was the end of our conversation. He says that he's fine with that and that he'd just suck my dick. I agreed to that. Shit, why not? I'm home, alone, horny and a cute guy wants to come and suck my dick, how could I say no? So he comes by, sucks me off, I eat him out and almost fucked him. I would have fucked him except that my dick, the head really, couldn't fit in (That damn mushroom head is a gift and a curse). Uh huh, talkin' all that shit the last time I saw him, the top killer strikes again, don't judge me.

Oh and speaking of my mushroom head and people mentioned in past blog posts, remember Freddy, from this blog post? We did it. Wednesday night. My mushroom head almost made us not able to do it but we pulled it off, don't judge me.

"Maybe I am foolishly in love with someone that is
Not exactly on the same page, that I am on
Well all my friends keep telling me stop
Walking round so blindly
But when he calls they're not around
To ever remind me..."

"I guess I kind of notice he don't always act so kindly
But that doesn't stop my hunger, hunger for his heart
Why should I listen to those, who think that I should move on
Maybe what they see as drama, I see more as art..."

"Can't seem to get past how he makes me feel
May not be love but it feels so real
Can't go with what they say must follow my heart
But now is that even being to to me
Maybe I'm happy, truly content
Maybe this is as good as it gets
Do I have faith in my confidence
Or am I just thinking all hopelessly..."

-Vivian Green
from the song "What Is Love"

Speaking of going backwards, much to my chagrin I must admit that I have started seeing Pubby again.  I know, I know, I know many of you including my own friends have said that he's no good for me, that I deserve better, that I'm "a stupid bitch". But I like him, okay, I do. The times that we are together, though few and far between are great. And it's not like I'm not seeing other people, even though I'd rather just be with him. But ya gotta fill the empty space somehow. **sigh** Don't judge me.

Even though I was really pissed at him and had been giving him the cold shoulder for the past few weeks, ignoring his calls and text messages. Y'all know me and you know I can't stay mad forever. It's just not in me. He hit me up via email one day and we started talking about making peace. We went out to dinner last Sunday to Alfredo Of Rome. We hadn't seen each other in like two months so we got all caught up. We talked out all of our misunderstandings and agreed to communicate better. I'm not putting anything on it this time but I guess we'll see. I'ma just enjoy the time we spend together. He came to my house on Thursday night. In an effort to switch things up I asked him to cook for me this time. He cooked and the food turned out good in spite of the fact that he almost burned my apartment down in the process. Smoke everywhere, coughing, watery, burning eyes, opened windows, the works. Yeah baby, you sit there and look pretty and let papa do all the cookin' from now on. After the smoke cleared it felt so good to hold him in my arms again, don't judge me.

I've had more fun this week than I've had in a long time. Granted, every week won't be as sexual as this one was, and that's more than okay. It just feels good to be myself again, however promiscuous people think that may be. One thing I could say is that I haven't drank and haven't wanted to drown my sorrows in alcohol since that day at Nathan's house, that's a good thing. I'm sure my liver is happy about that and I finally got me some, my dick is very happy about that. In one week I just totally went against everything I'd been preaching for the last few months. Call me a backslider, call me Al Green if you will, just don't judge me.

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Playing in The Background...
"Too Close"
by Al Green
from the album "One In A Million"
and
"Tired Of Being Alone"
by Al Green
from the album "Greatest Hits"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (1)

==========
Okay, after rereading today's blog post I realize that I'm a little angry. If you are innocent and I offend you in the next few moments I do sincerely apologize.

-Adam
==========

A few weeks ago, Wednesday, December 5th to be exact, I went out to two parties after work that night. I noticed this guy at the first party, DJ noticed him too. He was short, nice face, like 5'7-5'8, light brownskinned, thin, with a fat little ass, definitely our type. I would have probably said something to him, or at least introduced myself but he was leaving and with him another chance to find true love or at least a date for the upcoming weekend. Okay, that was a little dramatic, but you know what I mean.

Shortly after, we (Me, DJ, Shorty, Tye Sexy, and Soulgee aka our crew "Media Inc.") left the party to head down to Dwight's weekly function at Mocca. Once we arrived at the 28th street downtown 6 train station and went through the turnstiles the first person I saw, of course was the guy from the party. He was speaking with a friend, they signaled for Tye Sexy. She went over and talked to them while I stood with my boys about 10 feet down the platform. Every so often I'd glance over at him while DJ and I contemplated my next move. At that point I'd kinda decided to leave things alone. I figured that I'd had my chance at the party. I could have stopped him before he walked out of the door. Besides, I never made a habit of picking up guys on subway trains anyway.

When the train arrived fate would have it that we all end up in the same car and that I would end up entering the train car right behind him and that he would turn to the door that I leaned up against and that we'd be face to face. So I said "Hi." We shook hands and exchanged names. Then the eyes turned on, his and mine. You know "the eye", the "I'm-attracted-to-you-I'm-tryna-see-what's-good" eye, followed by some flirtatious smiles and lip licking. There was definitely chemistry there, beakers and test tubes, white lab coats and shit. So I gave him one of my promo cards (I never leave home without them, that's how half of y'all found my blog) and we exchanged numbers. We talked briefly a few days later. I asked him out on a date and he told me that he'd be busy until the following Sunday and just about all this stuff he's doing in general. The conversation felt a little rushed. After that I just thought I'd leave it alone. I hate meeting a decent guy to find that he's too busy for me. I figured if he's busy like that it probably would never work for us anyway. I'm a Leo, we need attention. I'm not the kind of boy that you can let down and think that everything is okay. 'Cuz boy I am only human. This boy needs more than occasional hugs as a token of love from you to me... I digress, I just went off on a tangent there. I will PayPal thirty-two cents to the first person who can tell me what song my little digression is from.

Anyway, I got to work that next Tuesday and I ran into his number again in my phone. So I decided to text him. Why didn't I just leave well enough alone?

Adam: "Whaddup, it's Adam... from the train, remember me?"

Guy At Party: "Sorry sir. Been busy with work and preparing to move and just a lot of good things." How are u?"

A: "I figured as much. I thought I'd give you a lil time. I'm good. Where u movin' to?"

GAP: "[Another borough of New York City], next month. How are you?"

A: "I'm fine. A lil busy myself. I was thinking about u last night and thought I'd hit u up. So I'm sayin', when can I see u?"

GAP: "We can get together and hang as friends."

A: "So we couldn't go out on a date?"

GAP: "My boyfriend would not appreciate that."

A: "Gotcha. :)"

GAP: "Well I said we can still hang as friends."

Fuck outta here... hang as friends? Hang as friends? Say what!?! Get the fuck outta here! What kinda new fangled shit is that? (smile Dwight & kiemie) Anyway, I'm not even gonna fuck with this right now, there's more...

So I'm at another party last week. This fine ass dude walks in. I don't remember who I was standing next to but all I remember is saying to them "Dayum, who is that?" Actually, I don't think I'd ever seen him around before. That nigga was fine, he was around my height, lightskinned, toned body, and a beautiful face. DJ saw him too and he was also, definitely our type.

I watched him for a while. I wanted to see who he was talking to, who he knew, whether he came in to meet somebody, like a boyfriend of something. He didn't appear to have any romantic involvement with anyone at the party so I prepared to make my move. I sat by him, bringing over Kiemie for moral support and we all talked, me and him Kiemie and his friend. After awhile I got him alone and the eyes turned on again, mine and his. The whole time we conversed we never broke our mutual stare, there was definitely chemistry, I'm talking about mint Mentos and Diet Coke here. So much so that his friend came back and asked whether he was "interrupting something". We actually had a whole lot in common, especially our taste in music, more so than I do with the average person, which was actually really refreshing. So after talking for the better part of an hour I asked him for his number. We exchanged digits and I told him that I'd like to see him again sometime. Him and his friend left not too long after that. After exchanging two lingering embraces he left for the night. I have to admit I was a little excited. Yeah, me, excited, I shoulda known that this was gon' be trouble. I texted him the next day:

Adam (about 12 p): "I was wondering if we could do something this weekend? I'd love to chill w/ u and show you my music collection. :)"

Fine Ass Guy (about 1:30p): "I'm doing good. Sorry about not texting you. I'm at work. How are you?"

A: "It's all good. I'm home, working on my blog, tryna ask u out on a date this weekend, what's good?"

FAG: "Aww, that's so nice. I'm leavin' 4 the holiday."

A: "Aight, well when are u leavin/coming back? Maybe we can work something out. U can call me if you want if ur not still at wk."

(Did you just cringe at that statement? Because I cringed, I even threw up in my mouth a little. I reached so hard on that one that I may have dislocated my shoulder. Ouch.)

FAG: "Ok, I'll call on my break."

A: "Kewl."

1102p, 10 motherfuckin' hours later. He obviously never called. Now here's where I shoulda left well enough alone, but ya know me. I always gotta push it.

A: "Whaddup?"

The next motherfuckin' day.

A: "What's good? U harder to find than a straight man in Atlanta. I'm still tryna kick it w u... When can you fit in a little time 4 me?"

Ahhh, dignity. Only but a distant memory now.

FAG: "LOL U work today?"

A: "Nah I'm off, what about u? Can I c u before u leave?"

FAG: "Well you know I have a bf and me and him are supposed to go out when he gets off."

A: "No I didn't know that and boy is he a lucky man... Aight  then, I won't bother u. Have a good time then."

Now I see why Mr. Nederlander failed my black ass in 10th grade chemistry. I wouldn't know chemistry if the shit blew up in my face (which it does all too often). I don't understand this. Maybe I'm not seeing something, maybe I'm missing something, but please someone, anyone of you my lovely reading public answer this question for me:

WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU FLIRT WITH SOMEONE AND EXCHANGE NUMBERS WITH SOMEONE KNOWING GOOD AND DAMN WELL YOU HAVE A MAN?

Maybe it's me...? Am I crazy? Am I reading too much into things? I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. But, I mean, this shit is crazy. Like, did they exchange numbers with me out of pity? That's so fucked up. If you don't like me or think I'm ugly or whatever just tell me. Just be fucking honest with me. That's much easier to deal with than this. But don't give me false hope that you may want to communicate with me further on a romantic basis, if you know you don't or if you know you have a man.

And don't give me none of that friendship bullshit either. If a guy comes up to you in a club or at a party and flirts with you and asks you for your number you know good and damn well he doesn't wanna be your friend. And if you have a man you don't have no business flirting with me or giving me your number anyway.

Like, what the fuck? Was I too needy? Did I come on too strong? You meet someone at a party, you exchange numbers, you text/call the next day and set up a date. Is this not the natural progression of things anymore. Did I miss a memo or something?

You know what. Today I have to admit I miss being online. The whole online dating, A4A/BGC/M4N thing. I've been doing the whole Puritanical, meeting people the organic way shit for what like three, four months now and it's bullshit, pure fucking bullshit. At least when I log on to the fucking internet I know what the fuck I'm getting. Hi, Hi, ur cute, ur cute too, okay, alright, let's date/talk/fuck, okay. And if you don't like somebody you just don't return their message like a fucking compassionate human being. All of this splendor in the privacy of my motherfucking home. I have half a mind to say fuck it and go the hell back. Fuck these Puritanical bitches, they can turn their noses up at me all they want 'cuz they asses is lonely too.

This is such bullshit. Men are all fucking bullshit. Fuck 'em all, damn them all to hell, the whole fucking evil lot of them. Fuck this, I'm going to me something to eat... Where's my cuddle-buddy?

==========
Playing In The Backg...
OH, FUCK THE FUCKING BACKGROUND MUSIC!
==========

PS: Oh and fuck the bitch who says I bring this on myself and is all on that "it's what you put out there", snap-snap, "Love Jones", coffeehouse, neo-soul, tofu-soy eating, poetry reading, universal energy, mystical bullshit. Like I go looking for this shit! Fuck you bitch!

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

As of late I've been on a quest, not to find sex or a boyfriend, but to find genuine intimacy between myself and another man, a foundation to maybe build something more off of in the future and/or good times and a warm body to snuggle up to in the present. To be close to someone and to get to know him genuinely without the uncertainty of dating, the complication of sex and the expectation of a relationship. To put this idea in action I've adopted the idea of having a "cuddle-buddy" (as Rocafella07 would call it).

A cuddle-buddy is a special friend that you would treat like any other friend, except that this particular friend is someone you also share affectionate moments with. Cuddling, snuggling, caressing, spooning, maybe even some kissing, making out and heavy petting. The point is that you are not in a relationship with this person (at least not yet, if ever), but the person should be a friend and someone you expect to see somewhat regularly. You can go out and do things with the person but it wouldn't necessarily be considered dating. You also are not having sex with this person (at least at this point, if ever) and of course you both should be single. Most importantly, the cuddle-buddy friendship is to be non-complicated.

This definition of what a cuddle-buddy is is basic. The coolest thing about having a cuddle buddy though is the fact that these rules (except for the sex rule) can bend and fluctuate for each specific pair of buddies. The key is communication. What are we okay and not okay with? Unlike being in a relationship where we tend to assume and infer things instead of talking, this friendship is all about talking. You and your buddy eventually should be talking about things such as exclusivity and multiple buddies, what happens when a buddy finds a boyfriend, do we as buddies even look for boyfriends, how far does our physical contact go, etc. It's all about the dialogue between you two. Most importantly you should always be having a good time. The day it's not fun anymore and becomes hard work is the day it should end.

I'm finding in my case that it's better when nobody knows who your cuddle-buddy is. The anonymity will enable your friendship to exist without the scrutiny of others, allowing you and your buddy to concentrate on intimacy and getting to know each other (it's kinda like a derivative of my one month rule). I think that the time with your cuddle buddy should be yours alone and be somewhat of an escape from your everyday worlds. And if perhaps things don't work out between you or you decide to downgrade your involvement to regular friends it won't be a public spectacle. On the other hand if you decide to upgrade to an exclusive dating, or relationship thing at least you can be confident in the fact that your decision was unaffected by the opinions of others and you'd have that firm buddy foundation to build from.

The hard thing about having a cuddle-buddy is your dicks, the dicks are gonna get hard. It's hard to repeatedly lay up with an attractive guy and not have sex, especially if you both want it. To maintain a cuddle-buddy relationship you must absolutely not have sex, maybe a little oral as a part of some extended foreplay after a while, but definitely not intercourse, NO INTERCOURSE. The whole point of the cuddle-buddy thing is to remove sex from the equation and concentrate on intimacy. Roles such as top, bottom, and versatile don't even come into play at this stage. It seems like as men we all know how to talk fucking to each other but we don't know how to fucking talk to each other.

If you do have intercourse, outside the confines of a relationship then you have then upped the ante and become "fuck-buddies". There's nothing wrong with having a fuck-buddy, and your cuddle-buddy relationship may even evolve in that direction after a while, but at that stage none of the cute little cuddle-buddy rules apply anymore. Fuck-buddies are dealing with much more serious physical and emotional risks and should be abiding by a much more stringent set of rules. Also the decision to abstain from sex must be mutual. One buddy cannot feel that the other buddy is depriving them of anything, then the arrangement won't work.

And that's just about it. I'm trying something new and it's workin out pretty good so far. Hopefully Rocafella07, the "cuddle-buddy" phenomenon will catch on in '08.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"B.U.D.D.Y."
by Musiq Soulchild
from the album "Loveanmusiq"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

I woke up this morning next to someone I did not have any sexual contact with again. I was having a vulnerable night last night and after some counsel from my new friend we fell asleep in each other's arms. It was everything a normal sleep over first date would be but without the sex and once again I don't feel like I've missed anything.

I think I'm catching on to a new phenomenon here. I did this same exact thing almost a month ago, (remember the post I wrote about that?) and have done it a few times since. It's like I'm getting everything I need without the pleasure and complication of sex. We actually had a beautiful night last night. We talked and laughed and shared our experiences. We were attracted to each other physically but it's not a love connection and that's okay. He actually has some friends he wants to hook me up with. Shit, it's about damn time somebody hooks me up. A lot of long-lasting meaningful relationships start through hookups through friends so I'm actually kinda excited.

I have to admit though, my dick hardened a little a few times as we spooned through the night and hands traveled a bit but that I just chalk up to male curiosity. Gay or straight behind all of our designer labels, our careers and the fabulous lives we've created for ourselves we're all still little boys wondering "Is his thing bigger than my thing?" Yeah, there was a little bit of sexual tension, but that was only due to the fact that we were two attractive gay men in bed together. We woke this morning as friends and its the coolest thing. I'm glad that we didn't needlessly give in to our physical urges and ruin shit. Last night seems like one of those things we'll sit and laugh about someday.

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Playing In The Background...
"Friend To Friend"
by Diana Ross
from the album "Diana"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

Life is a series of moments. Yesterday was not one of my best moments. I hadn't taken the time to mourn a recent involvement and it all just came down on me like a ton of bricks, hence the emotional vulnerability of that particular blog post. I just wanna let everyone know that I'm okay and I thank you all for your comments and well wishes and stories and concern and advice. You are great, all of you. I awake this morning feeling a million times better, having said all I needed to say.

I guess you just need to take the time to let it out sometimes.

-Adam

PS: Don't feel bad if you send me a long email or make a long comment on the blog. I LOVE THE LONG EMAILS AND COMMENTS! The longer the better! I love to read your thoughts. I appreciate the fact that you would even take the time to even comment at such length.

==========
Playing in The Background...
"Work In Progress (Growing Pains)"
by Mary J. Blige
from the album "Growing Pains"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

"It's not an easy thing to do
Sometimes it's hard to face the truth
It's not the life that I would choose
But what else can I do if he don't love me
If he don't want me
I'm not about to sit around [and] let myself go..."
-Tamia
from the song "Smile"

Last night I went to Baron's birthday party at Alibi. You probably didn't see me because I arrived fashionably late, after midnight and by that time you had already left. But I was there, laughing and joking, talking and networking, eating ungodly amounts of birthday cake and having a really good time. Then me and Dwight left there and ended up at Chi Chiz on Christopher Street (Don't judge me okay, the drinks are cheap and it's the only black gay bar open that late on a Wednesday night. So what it's where all the old queens go to die.), we were meeting his boyfriend there. I got fucked up, I mean really fucked up. So fucked up that I was leaning on a chair in the back of Chi Chiz singing lyrics to Tweet's song "Drunk". "I'd rather be drunk, on a cloud away from here..." Those drinks were cheap but strong.

We left there and I stumbled my drunk ass up Christopher Street to that pizza shop by the 1 train where I inhaled a lukewarm slice topped with pepperoni, ground beef, and ricotta and then we rode the A train uptown. On my wobbly-ass walk from the train station as Mary J. Blige's "Work In Progress (Growing Pains)" blasted from my iPod and I drunkenly sung along, I realized that as good as my life is, I'm still not there yet. In the solitude of my rickety gait up 8th Avenue I also realized that all the pain I'd managed to sweep under the proverbial rug of life in the past few weeks is starting to make lumps.

Lately I've been so busy, writing two blogs, working full time, networking, going to parties, building websites. Keeping this grueling schedule doesn't even allow me much time to sleep. The work is paying off but the compensation isn't the only reason why I've been doing so much. Keeping myself busy is my way of not thinking about my love life, or rather the lack thereof. I figure if I just become a success none of the love shit will matter anymore. Mr. Right will be easy to find once I have money in the bank and a couple of books published. It's only when I have a brief lapse between performing all the tasks that I've chosen medicate myself with that it all comes back to me.

I miss Pubby. I know I shouldn't, I have no real reason to. He was never particularly good to me or good for me, but I do. I'm stupid I guess. I miss his smile and the dinners I cooked for him that we had together and all the times we had sex and cuddled and the things we laughed at and how we were so different from each other. I miss the way he felt in my arms and how peaceful he looked when he was asleep. As fucked up as it turned out there were some good times.

It was so easy for him to walk away from me, like I was nothing, like what we had was nothing. I guess it was nothing. He probably hasn't even given a second thought about me since the last time we spoke and here I am making yet another post on my blog about him. I erased his number from my phone, even though I know it by heart. He's online now, I see him on my buddy list. I guess I forgot to delete him from there. I'd die before I IM him though. A very small part of me wants to but I refuse to let go of my dignity like that.

He hurt me so much. The weather outside is horrible and I don't feel like doing anything today. I'm trying to work and I can't even concentrate, fuckin' bastard. Why did I have to fall for him the way I did? Why couldn't he just want me as much as I wanted him. Damn it, I knew better. I saw all the fuckin' signs but I chose to ignore and now off the cliff I go. I gotta snap outta this shit though because I don't have time to be depressed. I've got way too much work to do. The truth is that Pubby doesn't want me anymore. It was what it was. I just gotta accept it and move on.

And that sex I had 20 days ago I shoulda never had it. He was there, I was there, he pounced on me so I figured fuck it. I would give him what he wanted and I'd get a nutt too, why not? I wasn't over Pubby, obviously, but it just felt good to have someone desire me. But anyway, I'll get over this. I'll be okay. It feels really good to have let all this out.

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Playing In The Background...
"Smile"
by Tamia
from the album "More"
and
"Drunk"
by Tweet
from the album "Southern Hummingbird"
and
"Work In Progress (Growing Pains)"
by Mary J. Blige
from the album "Growing Pains"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 03:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

"It's just a fling baby, fling baby
Nothing more than a fling baby, fling baby
Just a bit of ding-a-ling baby, bling baby
Don't want relationships so swing baby, swing baby..."
-Girls Aloud
from the song "Fling"

Now that I'm single and not dating anyone, sex has become more sporadic than usual. I guess that's not so terrible in the final scheme of things, I just can't count on getting it the way I used to, ya know? And I'm not doing the internet thing anymore so that counts that out. Basically, if I don't meet somebody decent while I'm out it's just not gonna happen for me. And if the heavens open up and the stars align and I do end up getting me some, more often than not it's with someone I'm being intimate with the first time and will more than likely never see again.

I've learned from past experience though that when dealing with casual sex, honesty is the best policy. I have to admit, every dude I've ever fucked with isn't exactly the man of my dreams. A lot of the time I'm horny, he's there and I'm there and the shit just pops off. I'm sure I haven't been all that every dude I've ever fucked with dreams of either. I mean, hey, we all got needs, sometimes the opportunity presents itself and it's like hey, what the fuck? Why the hell not? But what's messed up is when we lull anyone, or knowingly allow anyone to lull themselves into believing that it's more than just what it is.

I used to be one of those people who thought that just because I fucked someone that they were my boyfriend. Awww, c'mon admit it, you we're too. You didn't just magically become the learned, cosmopolitan, wise-beyond-your-months (yes months, a month is a homo year), homo you are today. You were innocent, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed once before Raheem, Rahliek, Chad or whoever it was with a big dick and/or fat ass and a smile ("...that boy is poison, p-p-poison"), broke your heart and turned you into a bitter, jaded queen who doesn't believe in love anymore, remember?

I've been the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed (ewww forgive the pun, I just got into that) homo and unfortunately I've been Raheem as well. Being a little more experienced now every so often I find myself in the presence of one of those homos who I know if I fuck them they're gonna get attached to me. I used to just think, fuck it, I wanna hit, you gonna let me hit, we'll iron out the other shit later. Isn't it funny how hurting people hurt people? I was once hurt by a fly by night Chad, and now I've become one. How fucked up is that vicious circle? All I cared about was getting my nutt, going into the shit knowing that the person is gonna be open for me and knowing that I don't even feel the person like that. A lot of the time I would just ignore that feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me what I'm doing is wrong. Do you know how many times I've done that shit? And how many times it's been done to me?

Recently I was in a situation where I was, well, I guess dating someone. It was a sexual thing we had going on. We'd see each other, we'd go out, or we'd just chill at the crib but at the end of the night we'd have sex. Not just sex, really good motherfuckin' sex, we'd fuck like wild animals. He had this angelic face and seemed so innocent in the streets but when I got him in the bedroom he was such a freak, just the way I liked it. If I had to give a Lil' Kim reference I'd say "the way he sucked my dick, he had me head over heels..." I get hard just thinking about the positions I'd have him in, the way he'd ride me, the way I used to hit it from the back and watch my dark brown dick impale his fat little light-skinned ass, to hit it missionary and watch his face twitch in ecstasy as he moaned my name, called me "Daddy" and told me that my dick was "the best he'd ever had". Ahhh the memories... He felt the same way I felt, about the sex that is, I mean it was fuckin' great. He told me that I know what he likes without him even having to tell me, as though we'd had sex before, like in another life or something. Unfortunately his compliment stroked more than just my ego. Somewhere in the midst of the moans and groans and the rhythm of our contorted bodies giving each other pleasure, my feelings got mixed up in there. And somewhere in the process I stopped just fucking him and started making love.

I really started to like him and I believe he liked me, as a person, hey why not? I'm a nice guy, but he wasn't developing that type of feelings for me and as much as I tried not to see it, I knew good and damn well. Things were uneven... again, what a terribly familiar feeling this is. I'd text him and if he didn't text me right back I'd think he was uninterested. I wanted to talk to him but I didn't wanna call too much. If I called him every time he was on my mind, I'd never be off the phone. What was he doing? Where was he? I was like Blu Cantrell, "looking at the phone as if it owed me a favor..." I hope he's not fucking somebody else, or rather letting somebody else fuck him. Why doesn't he fuckin' call me?

"Though I know what I love most of him
I'm walking on needles and pins
My addiction to the worst of him..."
-Feist
from the song "Brandy Alexander"

Our thing cooled off even more after a while, as all things do, as all uneven-made-up-in-your-imagination things do, we got busy, he more than I, we started seeing each other less and less and then talking less and less and then meetings started getting postponed and canceled. Days would go by without us talking and it started to become real apparent that my feelings were unrequited. He was my priority, while I was obviously only an option for him. So I decided to just cut him off, he was unhealthy for me. I was tired of feeling for someone who didn't feel for me, that was my love life story. So I made a declaration, it's over between us, fuck you, you know I'm feeling you and you don't feel me, lose my number, he apologized, I melted, we saw each other again, he sucked my dick, we talked, we cuddled, damn he's so fuckin fine, nothing changed, things got worse, he got even more distant, I declared again, fuck you, lose my number, I mean it this time, he apologized, I forgave him, he never took full responsibility for his actions, he made me take part of the blame, he tricked me, I resented him, I made him answer a question, the big question, the one I already knew the answer to, "How do you really feel about me?", he answered, I was angry, why didn't he tell me? Why did he let me fuck him all those times? Why did he come to my house, and eat my food, and lie in my bed, and smile my smiles, and laugh my laughs, and listen to my stories, and waste my time? He knew how I felt. I'm such an idiot. I cut him off for real after that time. I was desperate so I took a desperate measure. I erased his number from my phone. I told him all I thought of him via text message, all I had felt but had been afraid to say because I thought I'd lose him. He texted me the next day and I didn't even look at it. I deleted it. I didn't want to read his apology, or his explanation, or his insults. Because then I would have to say something back, and then he'd say something back, and then I'd day something back, and it'd start all over again. He was poison and I had to quit him before he killed me. I was fighting for my emotions, fighting for my life. I couldn't fall into him again. So I walked away. I took solace in the fact that walking away had gotten a lot easier than it used to be.

I wasn't as mad with him as I was at me. How could I fall for another Rahliek? I knew better but I couldn't help myself. What I am mad at him for though is the fact that he just didn't tell me that he was uninterested as soon as felt like he was uninterested? Why did I have to drag it out of him? Why didn't he just say Adam, we fucked, that was fine and good but I'm just not interested in you like that? What's so wrong with that? Why did he apologize when I was ready to walk away? Why couldn't he just let me go? He didn't want me anyway. I don't get it. As soon as I got all strong and confident and was ready to walk away he made me melt again, why? Why did he tell me all of those sweet things? Well I guess those questions will remain unanswered because I never plan on speaking to Pubby or answering any of his correspondences again, at least until I feel I'm totally over him. I know it's petty and not very mature or evolved but I gotta look out for number one this time, everybody else fuckin' does it. I just can't risk falling for this dude again.

I shoulda listened when I was told to leave him alone, that he was no good for me, that he was playing games and that I deserve more. Y'all, the readers of my blog, my guardian angels, people who don't even know me, with nothing to lose or gain one way or the other were hitting me up and telling me this. I guess it's like in the words of Tennessee Williams "I've always depended on the kindness of strangers." Thanks guys. I'ma finally get it one of these days.

On the other hand, in my recent involvement with Winston. I've noticed that he seems to be developing feelings for me rather quickly. So in everything we do I'm being real patient with him, telling him to slow down, get to know me, don't do so much so soon. We've had sex, it was very consensual, we both wanted it, he more than I though. He literally jumped on me and started ripping my clothes off. That was hot, but even with that I'm not 100% sure how I feel about him yet or how I want to proceed. He's cool, but I'm not necessarily looking for a boyfriend right now. I make sure that I'm straight up and honest with him at all times because I don't want to be to him what Pubby was to me. I'm aware of how easy it can be to lull yourself into a false sense of security with someone and I just won't allow  him to do that and as a result, no one is hurt. When fucking, honesty is the best fucking policy.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Fling"
by Girls Aloud
from the album "Tangled Up"
and
"Brandy Alexander"
by Feist
from the album "The Reminder"
and
"Catching Feelings"
by Faith Evans
from the album "The First Lady"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

People are really funny about their friends. Far too often I've been in situations with present and former friends where I meet a friend of theirs and their friend is attracted to me and I to the friend but my friend doesn't want us to date. I always wonder why, why friend can't I date your friend? I mean, we're friends, right? What's the big deal? Why have you forbidden me from this fruit? Don't they realize that that's only gonna make us want each other more? Forbidden fruit is always the best tasting fruit (wink, wink).

When faced with this obstacle, this sanction between me and the one with who I'm newly infatuated, I usually go against my friend's wishes and date the person anyway. My stubborn, independent nature doesn't allow for me to abide by such an edict. It actually pisses me off that my friend would even come at me in such a way anyway, as I have never, haven't ever, and would never mind if things were the other way around. As much as I'm gay and evolved and in touch with my feminine side I can be very macho (Leo, King Of The Jungle) at times and that kinda thing I take (sometimes wrongly, but not always) as a strategy to exert control over me and I never take kindly to that. I mean, shit, you my friend and all but you ain't my fuckin' father! I fuck who the fuck I wanna fuck so fuck you. As a result my sociable dick has lost me a few friends.

A good example is the termination of my friendship with my ex-best friend Chuck. I've mentioned him a few times namely here, here, and here. One major blow to our friendship was the fact that I fucked and subsequently dated two of his friends, people I met through him, after being told not to do so. I took Chuck's instruction not to date his friends very offensively, as though he were trying to control my life. In his case I think he was trying to control me, that withstanding, what I've learned from that experience is that friendships are kinda like relationships, but without the sex (at least for most people), you gotta compromise. Even though I would never hinder friends of mine from dating and I personally see it as a great thing, especially if two people that I brought together find love and stay together, I'd only be concerned about whose side I'm gonna sit on at the commitment ceremony myself, but I digress. People have their own reasons to do what they do and believe what they believe and even though I may not understand the rationale behind it and think that it's absolutely absurd I also realize that if I really value that person's friendship then I may have to acquiesce, roll with the punches, and take one for the team from time to time. And if I really feel like it's that serious then I'll do what I want but at the risk of losing the friendship. 'Cuz honestly, if I didn't get the chance to stick my dick inside my friend's friend, I'd live. The real question is how much is the friendship worth to me?

That brings us to Thursday night. I was at Mr. Man's party at Duvet. I arrived at about 2:30a, fashionably late as usual. I'm standing by the bar sipping on my drink, cranberry vodka, minding my own business while Mr. Man went off to make his rounds through the crowd. That's when I saw Freddy. Freddy is someone I met at a networking event a few weeks ago. He is a friend of my friend, we'll call my friend, Devin. Using "Sex And The City" terms, I would describe Devin and Freddy as "frenemies". Frenemeies are friends that are cordial and somewhat loyal to each other but still have issues with the things that they don't like about each other. Those things they usually never hesitate to point out to others, especially if an inquiry is made about their friend. I wouldn't go so far as to say that they're fake friends, but as the adage goes, keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.

The day I first met Freddy he was very flirtatious, dropping not-so subtle sexual innuendo and double entendre throughout our conversation. That conversation also included Devin, who looked at Freddy in disgust, sick to his stomach at his friend's coquettish ways with someone he had been introduced to only minutes prior. Once Freddy left, Devin filled me in on the years of his and Freddy's history as friends. As Devin spinned it, Freddy's promiscuous ways had come between Devin and his other friends time and time before. It was to a point where Devin didn't even like to bring Freddy around his other friends anymore. This meeting was unfortunately unavoidable. As Devin talked I felt it coming, the passion in his voice, the frustration in his face, the subdued anger in his mannerisms, here it comes... here it comes... oh fuck! The edict:

"Adam, I don't care who you fuck with but you cannot fuck Freddy. If you fuck Freddy I swear I will never speak to you again."

Dammit! Not this shit again. So now I have to add Freddy to the list of people that I should legally, within my rights as an American be able to fuck (well, at least in most in most states) but cannot because my friend doesn't want me to. I mean like, what's the big fuckin' deal? I never understood this shit. I have yet in all my 24 years to tell a friend that they can't fuck somebody. Why cock block? Why hate?

Normally I would have been tight about this sorta thing but I figure that the friendship between Devin and I is good, why cause undue friction over a piece of ass? It's not like Freddy was "the one" or somethin', all he wanted from me was a ride on my dick. Granted, Freddy was sexy, my type, and a freak and I know the sex would be off the hook (his reputation precedes him) and although it'd probably be one night only, no strings attached, it wasn't worth fucking up a friendship with someone I see every other day. So I didn't sweat it and even though I didn't understand why it was such a big deal I shut my mouth, compromised and took this one for the team.

Back to Thursday night. I saw Freddy, we exchanged glances and then smiles and then he walked over to me. We exchanged normal club small talk, the-whaddups, the how-you-beens, the how-long-you-been-heres, we even talked about Devin and his where abouts that evening. He finally got me alone and it didn't take Freddy long to get down to the nitty-gritty.

"Why don't you fuck me so you can write about it on your blog tomorrow?"

"Huh?"

I said, pretending like I hadn't heard him as I over dramatized my tipsy-ness. This nigga is crazy, but it's so fuckin' hot though. Freddy looked back at me seductively, licking his chops like he was a ferocious lion and I was an unassuming, (kinda) innocent little lamb, and I'm supposed to be the Leo here. If he coulda took me in the bathroom right then I believe he would have.

"Shit, we can go in the bathroom right now..."

"Huh?"

I replied, totally dumbfounded and confused. I'm tipsy, this sexy ass dude wants me to fuck him at my ex-boyfriend's party, I'm horny as shit, I promised Devin I wouldn't do it, and even if I did try to do it on the low and swear Freddy to secrecy he's gonna eventually tell Devin, because they're frenemies and Freddy's just that kinda bitch.

"See that's whats wrong with y'all. Niggas is always scared..."

Now he's challenging my manhood, on some reverse psychology shit. Is there like some kinda coquette handbook that he's reading this shit from? 'Cuz the shit works, we exchanged numbers. Although I still wasn't planning to fuck him and I didn't save his number in my phone I didn't wanna look like a total pussy. Hopefully he wouldn't call, and if he did I just wouldn't answer the phone.

I saw Devin again Friday night. While we were out I told him about Freddy's advances at the club. I also reassured him that I wouldn't mess with Freddy because he told me not to. He told me that it was whatever and that he didn't care whether I fucked Freddy or not anymore. I don't believe him though.

It's Sunday and Freddy hasn't called.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"None Of Your Business"
by Salt-N-Pepa
from the album "Very Necessary"
and
"What About Your Friends"
by TLC
from the album "Ooooooohhh...On the TLC Tip"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

In the last post I talked about how I was gonna start giving some of those guys that hit me up on MySpace a second look. Well I have, two of them actually. I had a date with the second one last night. Much like Angela Bassett in the movie and Terry McMillan in real life my Winston was a little younger than me and West Indian. He's exotic looking (not exotic ugly either), light caramel complexion, about 5'7 with a slim build and light eyes. We had a good time last night. He seems to really be into me, something that's become almost a foreign concept given the parade of aloof dudes I've been dating as of late. I don't know what to think of him yet seeing that it was only the first date but we'll see.

Stay tuned.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Luv Me, Luv Me" feat. Janet Jackson
by Shaggy
from the album "How Stella Got Her Groove Back Original Soundtrack"
==========

PS: This is all pretty hilarious seeing that I met Jonathan Plummer, the real life Winston, two weeks ago (check out that post and the pics here). Oprah would call this a full circle moment.

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

What a paradox, I'm a creationist that's steadily evolving. As you know I have been making changes in my life, namely learning to value myself when it comes to relationships and who I deal with and becoming less of a whore as chronicled by this blog. Letting out all of my fears, anger and frustration here has been more than therapeutic and I thank you all for all of your comments and emails. I've been super busy lately and on my grind lately as far as my writing is concerned so I figure it's about time for a dating update.

Mr. Man, my ex-boyfriend and I have been working together on some projects lately. It's actually been really good for our relationship. Even though we're all broken up I still love him and he loves me, but it's not in that weird we-can't-be-alone-together-without-ripping-each-other's-clothes-off kinda way or that equally weird every-time-we-see-each-other-we-have-to-stroll-down-memory-lane way either, oh, it's definitely over between us. Granted, we have our uncomfortable moments every now and then but our dynamic now is that of close friends, the way it should have always been, but I don't regret anything.

In other paradoxical news, I bought myself a Blackberry Curve on Wednesday before I left for Virginia for Thanksgiving and it is indeed the sexiest phone I've ever had, I can jerk off looking at this phone (iPhone who?). Anyway, I had to call T-Mobile to change my plan and I decided to add their Fave 5 program to my cell phone plan. Basically with this plan I would be able to talk to the five people I talk to the most for free. The customer service lady on the phone was telling me the numbers I call and receive calls from the most: number one, Mr. Man's cellphone, number two, Mr. Man's house phone, now ain't that some shit? As for as his thoughts on my saunter down Damascus Road and I quote:

"It's like since we broke up this ho found Jesus or something..."

CancelCancel and I have grown closer since he's been back in my life but not in the way you'd think. We've only had one romantic encounter and that was a month and a half ago. He works a few blocks away from me so sometimes we'll ride the train uptown together, but those meetings are non-romantic and rather tepid. Lately our conversations have shifted toward the other people he's been dating (I don't talk to him about who I'm dating. He reads it on the blog like everyone else.) and it has no adverse effect on me. It's almost unbelievable that this is the same guy I was ready to get into a fight over two months ago. It's kinda weird but, a lot of that romantic "zsa zsa zu" as Carrie Bradshaw would call it is gone. Our evolution though has been a subtle one. I didn't really catch on to it until we had text on Wednesday afternoon.

A: "U goin 2 the parade tomorrow?"

CC: "Yeah, this dude wants me to go but I might back out of it... me and my big mouth."

A: "LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL Y u no likey him... lol"

CC: "LOL I actually do like him but I didn't think he was gonna take me seriously..."

A: "Dayum CancelCancel, what have we evolved into?"

CC: "U mean u and me or just men in general?"

A: "Me and u, are we like just friends now?"

While most mere mortals would have just assumed that we were just friends now, given our recent actions. I'm a Leo. Leos must know exactly what's going on at all times, what their status is and what the limits are so that we can act accordingly.

CC: "Well, seeing [that] I'm much more comfortable with you, I think we should be friends. I know u don't see me romantically after all my frontin' and bullshittin' and I don't blame u. I also know you like the other guy a lot better than u like me soooo I stumbled on someone who I like just as much as he likes me. I really do value ur friendship and I like what we have now."

A: "We can be friends, that's fine... But why would u say I like somebody better than I like you?"

CC: "I don't know. I just get that vibe that ur way more interested in him than me and thats cool. I'd rather be friends with u and keep what we have and focus on this dude."

A: "Him? Who's him? At this point I'm not talkin' to nobody actually..."

I was being somewhat facetious, well with the first part. He's obviously talking about Pubby. As far as that second part, if he only knew... but we'll get to that in a moment.

CC: "The dude I'm seeing, don't wanna make the same mistakes with him that I did with u. What happened to the other guy?"

A: "Oh thanks, u fuck me over and NOW u wanna get it right w next dude. Ain't that some shit! ROFL"

Looks like I'm not the only one who found Jesus on Damascus Road. CancelCancel I would like to take this time to officially welcome you to Girlfriendville, population: you. It's a wonderful place, ask Friend #1 and Friend #2. And like Saul in the Bible who after he met Jesus on Damascus Road changed his name to Paul, I in turn must change CancelCancel's nickname. Seeing that he never liked being referred to as CancelCancel anyway I guess I'll change it to... ummm... ummmm... I got it! We'll call him: The Date Formerly Known As CancelCancel or TDFKA CancelCancel for short. I was gonna into Illustrator and design him a symbol but I decided against it.

Our friend, The Date Formerly Known As CancelCancel asked a good question: "What happened to the other guy?" I'm taking the large step of finally admitting to myself and you all today that more than likely nothing romantic will ever come of my relationship with Pubby. If anything we'll just be good friends. I've ripped the bandage off and exposed the wound to you all. Now I'm gonna put some Neosporin on that bitch and call it a day. I haven't had a romantic encounter with him in over a month and we hardly talk on the phone or text each other. Normally this would be the time I'd put on my Adidas runners and run a marathon after this dude but I've grown past that.

The best thing about all of this is that I'm totally okay with every thing and I wish all three of them the best. I guess now that I'm totally unattached from anyone mentally and emotionally I should give all those guys who hit me up on MySpace a second look. What I won't do though is look for a quick rebound thing. I'm taking my time with relationships now and I'm sure not gonna let it slow down my writing grind. I'm sure one day Mr. Right will come along until then it's Me and Jesus.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"I Found Myself"
by Ciara
from the album "The Evolution"
and
"I Found Someone"
by Natalie Wilson & the SOP Choral
from the album "Girl Director"
and
"Jesus Is All"
by Fred Hammond & Radical For Christ
from the album "Pages Of Life: Chapters 1 & 2"
==========

PS: If you're new to the blog and are confused as to who the people are that I'm talking about in theis post, be sure to check out the dating section to get caught up.

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

You'd think that with all the stuff I've shared with y'all I would have told this story eons ago, but this morning when I was brushing my teeth, looking in the mirror I realized that I never shared this with y'all.

Due to my numerous sex-ploits most people who meet me think that I must have been fuckin' since I was ten. Actually, it's quite the contrary my friends. I did not have sex, any kind of sex, oral, anal, penetration, with a guy or girl until I was twenty years old, only four and a half years ago. I didn't even kiss a guy until I was 20. Yeah, let's just say that I've made up for a lot of lost time in the past few years. While a lot of you homos kissed, bumped, grinded, and fucked your way through your teenage years, in many ways cultivating your confidence as a gay man, I was too busy crying to God so that he could take this "gay demon" out of me that everyone convinced me I had and when I wasn't doing that I was contemplating suicide.

One major part of me snapping out of that whole self hatred thing was meeting my first love. In retrospect I guess I couldn't say that we quote-unquote "loved" each other but the feelings between us were very strong. He was my first kiss, with a guy, the first time I had sex, period (I've never had sex with a female, and never really wanted to, like hello, I'm gay). He was my everything and I'll never forget him. By a total fluke we ended up connecting with each other again via MySpace back in July. I'm in Harlem now and he's still in Brooklyn. We haven't seen each other in four and a half years but he's doing well.  He knew that he was my first even though he still doesn't quite believe me. It was good talking to him though, reflecting on old times. He's one of the people that helped make me the person I am today. Depending on who you ask that can be considered a good or a bad thing. But I digress. In this series of blog posts, "My First "Love"", I will tell the story of him and I.

One night I was at home on my computer, logged into BGC (BlackGayChat/BGCLive, a dating, friendship, sex hookup website). I can't quite remember how I found out about BGC but I managed to get an account there. BGC was cool to me because even though I was a virgin, I knew I was gay, but I didn't actually know any other gay people. BGC gave me a chance to see other gay men in their natural habitat. The profiles with the naked pictures didn't hurt either. At that point in my life I'd never seen another man naked, outside of porn. So seeing real guys my age showing themselves off was really hot. I even had some dick pics on my profile. And even now that I'm offline, four and a half years later I'm sure that my old BGC dick pics are still floating around somewhere in cyberspace (I'd know that head anywhere). At that time I wouldn't dare put my face on BGC. I actually only started doing that shit like a year and a half ago. And even with that you'll never find a fully nude picture of me, with my face showing on the internet. Kiddies take this piece of advice from a retired internet hook up professional: Your dick/ass/vagina should NEVER, I repeat NEVER be in the same picture as your face. Face pics and pics of private parts should ALWAYS be two separate entities. You never know, one day you may run for president or something and that shit will come back to haunt you, but at least if there's no face attached you can always deny, deny, deny. I digress.

So I was in the chat room on BGC one night and there was this guy there, let's call him Tony, who was making fun of everybody's pics on their profile. He was being really cruel too and even though I was laughing at his jokes I was scared that he was gonna come for me next so I quietly slipped out of the chat session. A few minutes later he hit me up on AIM and told me who he was and started talking to me. I was kinda shocked by it all and wondering why he had this sudden interest in me. So we chatted back and forth on the internet and eventually ended up exchanging numbers. That night we ended up having phone sex. It wasn't the first time I ever masturbated with someone over the phone but it was the first time that I took control of it and explicitly told the other person what I wanted to do to them. I've always had a really vivid imagination so I was a natural at phone sex. It's funny because even then I was the top.

I know, It's weird for a lot of people, but for me, coming into gay sex, even doing it for the first time I always knew where I belonged. I'm a top. I was the top, Tony was the bottom. He knew that, all of my dates know that (except for this one). It's not even something that has to be asked. I guess it's just a certain vibe I give off and the vibe that I'm attracted to. An ex boyfriend once told me that he did not believe that there was a such thing as a quote-unquote "real" top until he met me. Out of curiosity I even tried the bottom thing before, nah, it's just not for me. I'm digressing again.

For the next few weeks this phone sex became our nightly, before going to bed ritual, that along with our talking on the phone for four to five hours at a time, sometimes breaking daylight. We talked about everything, from our families, to our jobs, to our dreams, and even a future with one another (oh, to be that innocent again). We even had, and had make up phone sex, after our first argument. At that time Tony and I had never met it was as though I knew him and he knew me, like we were together, like boyfriend and girlfriend, or boyfriend and boyfriend, or lovers, or whatever it was supposed to be. And even though to actually be with Tony the way we planned over the phone, I knew we'd have to face insurmountable odds but none of that mattered those endless nights on the phone with him. Talking with him I slipped into a place where I was finally free, free to be myself and share my real self with someone else. Talking to Tony, I floated high above the pain and the stress of my mediocre, quotidian existence. He was the first person to ever experience the romantic side of me.

The more and more we talked, the closer and closer we got, it was killing me to not be able to see him. We'd let trivial circumstances and insignificant obligations stand in our way for far too long. One Saturday night I'd had enough and I demanded to see him. He obliged. So I slipped away from my group of friends, giving them some bullshit excuse about a friend from school needing homework help and I went to see him, Tony, my destiny.

He actually didn't live too far from me. We both lived in Brooklyn at the time and he was only about 20 minutes away by bus. When I got off the bus to meet him I remember the night being warm and him being taller than I thought, like two inches taller than me. We met, we gave our salutations and exchanged our pleasantries. During our phone conversations I learned that Tony was a huge Brandy fan. The night we met I gave him my autographed "Full Moon" CD that I stood for hours in the cold for on the day it was released. He accepted it and thanked me and we sat on a park bench in awkward silence.

It was so crazy because we'd been so expressive during our countless hours of phone conversation. We talked about our hopes, our dreams, our future, our fantasies, we busted nutts together and now we meet and there's, there's... silence, like what the fuck? So in an attempt to break the ice I suggest that we go to a local diner. We get there, we sit down, I ask Tony if he wants anything, he says no. I order a slice of strawberry shortcake (my all time favorite dessert) and we sit there, in silence. Now I'm nervous. Does he like me? Is he not feeling me? Just then, in the middle of one of my feeble attempts at small talk I reach over and knock my complimentary glass of ice water all over myself. How embarrassing? Here I am on my first date with a guy and I'm totally fucking it up.

We walk out of the diner and it starts pouring down raining, can this fuckin' evening get any fuckin' worse? Sensing that this date is basically over and the last few weeks had been a total waste of time, I made my way toward the bus stop. Tony walks over with me and stands there with me. We stood huddled together in silence under his small umbrella on the south east corner of that busy intersection, watching people run for shelter from the sudden rain, in silence. As I looked up and into his eyes I wanted to kiss him. But back then I didn't have the balls to do some shit like that, even though in retrospect, we coulda got away with it. It wasn't like there was anyone out there anyway. The bus came and as I entered I noticed that he was right behind me. Alrighty, I wasn't sure what to think of this. So I guess he did like me since he was gonna ride with me home and everything. We sat across from each other on the bus, damp, still in silence, but exchanging smiles every so often.

We get off the bus at my stop and walk toward my building. I'm not sure why exactly he was still tagging along as there was no way he was gonna meet Lydia (my mother and Jesus' unofficial cousin twice removed) that night, oh hayell nah! As cool as Tony was, he "looked" gay. And I was not secure enough in myself or my sexuality at that time to face the scrutiny that would come along with me being seen with him. He was in my hood now. It was kinda late so I wasn't so worried about being caught with him but I thought for sure that he was about to cross the street and take the bus back to his house. Isn't it funny how over the phone, dreams and speculations have you floating on air, light as a feather, but in person, reality is about as light as a ton of bricks?

We got to my building, he walked in behind me. Alrighty, we were now at the elevator, in silence. I pressed the up button as a swarm of butterflies fluttered violently through my stomach. I felt as though if I uttered a single word one would come flying out. We step into the elevator. As he stood in the back right corner, the tension mounted. Instead of pressing the button for my parents' third floor apartment I pressed next to the number 17. This was it. I'd been waiting for this all day, all night, all my life, and I was tired of playing it safe, tired of trying to please mama and daddy and everyone else. This was my life and I'll be damned if don't start living it. I didn't know what was gonna happen from that point on, whether the stars would fall from the sky or whether the Earth would swallow me whole and I'd fall into the pits of hell, but at that point I really didn't care, fuck it. I kissed him.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Kissing You"
by Faith Evans
from the "Waiting To Exhale Movie Soundtrack"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 03:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

==========
Do you realize that there are only 16 more days until Thanksgiving and 49 more days until Christmas? Yeah, I know, and I still don't have a boyfriend. Ain't that some shit? I know that I said in yesterday's post that I wasn't "so worried" about finding Mr. Right and that "I'm just working on my passion right now and being the best Adam I can be, everything else will fall into place" which is true but it sure woulda been nice to have someone to cuddle up to last night. Therefore, until I find him I will masturbate and find the most eloquent ways to rant about it to you all.

Enjoy.
==========

It's November in the Northern Hemisphere and we're smack dab in the middle of fall. Around New York everybody is wearing coats and I even see a scarf here and there. The incessant heat that plagues us every summer in the subway system is starting to wear off as we're all trying to figure out whose house we're going to for Thanksgiving and counting the paychecks until Christmas. The sun scurries away before 5pm leaving the nights longer and daytime even more precious. This time of year, lying alone in my bed at night seems just a bit more lonely than usual.

It really sucks being single this time of year, I mean yeah I date, but shit, they're dating too. That's the damn problem, everybody wants to date and play the field. And it's not like you can depend on them to  really be there when you need them or anything. As nice as it is to be able to snuggle up next to a date whenever schedules permit, you can snuggle a little closer knowing that you're the only one they're snuggling with, feel me? But I'm not gonna let my temporary lack of serious companionship bring me down. I still believe in love and in the meantime I have a lot of good stuff going for me, this blog for one and all the wonderful things happening as far as it's concerned. I even have a pretty good day gig and I have my apartment, which isn't the Taj Mahal but I'm happy with it. I actually have a lot to be thankful for. Actress, Sarah Jessica Parker in the person of "Carrie Bradshaw" on "Sex And The City" once said that "In New York, it seems like you can only have two of these three things, a great job, a great apartment and a great boyfriend, but never all three at the same time". She also asked "Why is it when you have two of these things do you want the other so badly?" Homegirl is definitely right. I have a great job, and a lovely apartment, small, but lovely but I don't have a boyfriend. On the other hand when I was trying to find an apartment, damn near homeless, I had a great boyfriend who even let Keisha (my cat) stay with him a few days in the midst of the transition and he even helped me move. A few weeks after I moved in to my apartment, we broke up. Eventually though, I know everything will turn out good in the end, even for "Carrie Bradshaw". You know her and "Mr. Big" are getting married in the "Sex And The City" movie, right? They've been filming it all around town so it's kinda impossible to keep it a secret. Sorry if I spoiled it for ya.

The thing is I just don't wanna spend this winter hooking up like I did most of last winter. Actually I can't really hook up so much this year even if I wanted to because I deleted my BGC, A4A, & M4N accounts a while back and it's not like I'm gonna be all up in the clubs or anything, it's gonna be way too cold for that shit. So that just leaves me home alone, laying across my bed, staring at my laptop (that I've effectively learned how to control using only my left hand) with a tub of Vaseline watching the Flavaworks Channel on XTube. They post the good shit there too, full scenes, not just trailers, you just gotta look. (Uh huh, I know I just made somebody's day. Thank me later, just don't shake my hand.) Them damn videos and some of them bottoms are so hot it almost makes me want to rethink taking them up on their offer for me to model for them... almost.

Anyway, I'd just be nice to have a boo around the holidays. I've never had one this time of year before. Well there was that dude I fucked on Thanksgiving a few years ago, he was an ex boo (I mention him in this blog post). I remember that day. I told my mother I that was leaving early that morning to go to the Thanksgiving parade... bull shit. He really rode my float that morning though... Anyway, I wanna make an intimate cornish hen dinner for someone (I'm not so into turkey). I wanna buy presents for someone, and have them buy presents for me. And I wanna have a Christmas tree, well there's no room in my apartment for a Christmas tree but maybe a Christmas wreath, yeah, with lights on it, whatever. You get the point. Even though I'm venting right now I'm still not so worried about it all. Love will come when it comes (hopefully in the next few weeks though). But whenever true love finally does knock on my door I'm gonna invite it in, cook it dinner, spend time with it, talk to it, ask it where it's been all my life, lay it down, kiss it all over and fuck the hell out of it all night long and then handcuff it to the bed to make sure it can't leave, at least not until February 15th. Happy holidays.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Baby It's Cold Outside" feat. Nick Lachey
by Jessica Simpson
from the album "Re-Joyce: The Christmas Album"
==========

You do know I'm kidding about the handcuff thing right... right? Don't look at me like that.

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 09:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

So I was on a date with this guy once. We had been dating for a little while and I really liked him. We even had had sex a few times before, it was always great. At that time we hadn't seen each other in a few weeks. I missed him. I missed being around him but I was also horny as hell. We set up a date for the upcoming Friday night. Earlier that week as we talked on the phone and texted back and forth I was dropping pretty obvious hints that I was trying to get some on the night of our date. I basically said everything short of 'I wanna fuck you on Friday night.' I wasn't getting any objections to anything so I assumed all systems were go.

On Friday I assumed my "pre-I'm-getting-me-some-tonight-rituals" of masturbating only once (because as you've already read I masturbate at least twice a day, read that post here) early in the morning as to give my guys enough time to regenerate for the evening's activities, my Kegel exercises (if you don't know about them I suggest you Google them) because nobody likes it when you pop the cork and the champagne doesn't shoot out, I cleaned up the house, changed the sheets, I made sure my Glade Plug Ins Scented Oil Light Show was full because nothing is sexier than walking into a home that smells good. I think I even went to the gym that day. I was ready. I was a lean, mean, fucking machine. All that was left to do was to pick out an outfit, something that looked good but could be ripped off at a moments notice.

So Friday evening comes and we went out to a really nice dinner. Then we went to a club. Things were getting hot and heavy on the dance floor. There was some bumping and grinding, neck sucking, kissing, my dick was hard, everything was lovely. In the club the music was loud so I texted him saying something like "Let's get outta here and go back to my place." He was cool with it. I was excited. I was finally gonna get me some and from him, this guy who I really liked. As much as I sound like a horny dog right now I really did have feelings for this guy. As always, other sexual opportunities presented themselves but he was the one I really wanted.

All during the train ride home there was all this sexual tension. I just wanted to have him right there on the subway train. Obviously we're gay, so I couldn't even kiss the dude without having to fight somebody. Society... two dudes can't tongue each other down on a subway train without a bitch having something to say. Lemme stop, 'cuz gay or not gay I've never really been into PDA anyway.

We get back to my place, lights dim, smelling good, all this sexual tension bubbling over. We start kissing, the clothes somehow come off and we fall into bed. We suck, we lick, we grind, I eat, he's moaning, I eat, he's moaning, I grind, hes' moaning, I suck his neck, he's moaning, I eat, he's moaning, I tease him with the head of my dick, he's moaning, I reach for the nightstand drawer, he stops.

"I don't wanna have sex tonight?"

"Huh?"

"I don't wanna have sex tonight?"

"What?"

There's was no blood left in my brain at that point so I couldn't really reason past one word questions yet. I was starting to sound like 'Lil Jon.

"I don't wanna have sex tonight?"

"Why?"

"Because I don't feel good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

One of the worse things to happen to a man, especially a gay man, especially a gay man who is a top is to be left with the horrible, terrible, proverbial, blue balls. For a man to get his hopes up, touching, kissing, cuddling, rubbing, listening, paying for dinner, all for that moment when his throbbing hard dick can finally get the satisfaction that his body has been craving all night, all week, all month, all however long it was since the last time he got some, only to be denied at last second is, is, it's just fucked up! I can sit here and look back on all the dates I've made, and all the plans I've made, and all dinners I've paid for, and all the boring ass conversations I've had to sit through, and all the boring ass places I've been dragged to all in the hopes of tappin' that ass. Even with all this work put in whether I will really get some has always remained an uncertainty.

Well this is a new day people! You wanna talk? You want communication? Well dammit, let's talk, I'm ready to communicate. So I've decided rather than assuming, wishing, hoping and praying that I get some I'm just gonna come straight out and ask. I know it's new, it's radical, it's different. Most of our actions in a dating situation usually hinge on assumption, subtle suggestion and inference but lately I've been testing out a more straight forward approach.

The time came for me and this same dude to go out again and before I started doing extra Kegels and push ups and shit I figured that I needed to know what I was, or rather wasn't getting into, so I could govern myself accordingly. As you know I've never done this with someone I've dated before. A few nights before our next date I send a text:

"I've never been this direct before but fuck it... Ayyo, can we have sex Friday night?"

"Yeah that's pretty direct. What happened to ur mack game? Ur supposed to make me want to have sex with you, not ask for it. lol"

You see that. That's that inference, assumption bullshit. I can't make him "want" anything. We're both grown. Either he wants to or he doesn't... for the most part. I'm usually pretty convincing but even with that there ain't that much "mack game" in the world. I laid down much mack game on the last date and you see where that got me. I wasn't taking any chances this time.

"U already wanna have sex with me. I just need to know if it's really gonna happen or not."

"Yeah."

"Thanks :) You see how easy that was... lol"

"Lol yeah yeah"

"There's so many things I wanna do to you..."

"U gonna let me ride u?"

"Hell yeah..."

"Aight cool, can't wait. ;)"

You see how simple that was. Nice and straightforward. Now we have no crazy mismatched expectations from the date. We can go out, have a good time and know we're getting some at the end of the night. Even if he said that he didn't wanna have sex with me I could still govern myself accordingly, like I said. I wouldn't expect anything. The real horror of blue balls is not so much a physical, I'm just horny thing. It's the dashing of expectations and the feeling of rejection that makes it so tragic.

On a more serious note repeated episodes like that, especially in the context of a relationship can lead to the rejected partner (top or bottom) harboring deep resentment toward the other. It can also have damaging effects on that partner's self esteem. Remember, gay or not we're all men and a good portion of a man's self esteem is wrapped up in his sexual prowess. Now I'm not suggesting for a second that anyone does anything that they don't want to do but whenever you don't want to at least take the time to explain why so the other person understands where you're coming from.

===========
Playing In The Background...
"Put Me Down"
by Donnell Jones
from the album "Life Goes On"
and
Sean Paul
"(When U Gonna) Give It Up To Me" feat. Keyshia Cole
from the album "The Step Up Original Movie Sountrack"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 11:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

Now y'all know I was going through it last Tuesday when I wrote this post. But that next day and the days following that even into this weekend and this new week beginning I feel great. I'm learning to relax, let go of expectations and just live, more importantly, live for me. I've been doing a lot for myself in the past week and have been putting dating and expectations of happiness and living out the rest of my days with "the one" on the back burner. The coolest thing about it is that it's not even a big dramatic change this time. I promised myself that I wouldn't run after another guy, I slipped up for a second and now I'm back. Like I said in the last dating update post "no angry phone calls, no declarative emails, no proclamations via text message" I'm just relaxing and letting things come to me now.

When I saw Pubby last Sunday he said that he wanted to meet up on Thursday. I agreed but I wasn't gonna put much on it. If I got a chance to spend time with him, I'd be nice but if I didn't I'd live. Given his track record, I didn't expect much. He texted me Thursday morning:

P: "Morning sweetheart"

A: "What's good, sexy?"

P: "Not much.. in class :("

A: "Awww I just woke up."

P: "Lucky you.. It is freezing and raining outside"

A: "Really, I woke up in the middle of the nite 2 close my windows last nite it was dumb cold"

P: "Yes, and I'm severely underdressed :("

A: "U didn't watch the weather report babe?  Maybe it will get better, maybe it's just a morning thing."

P: "Nah I Was running late"

A little bit later I was online checking my various email, Facebook and MySpace accounts I get a message on MySpace from, you guessed it, the Pubster:

P: "Hello sir :)"

A: "Whaddup babe,
I'm about to run out to the gym real quik and get me a haircut so I can be back in time to get the house ready 4 ur arrival.
((muah))"

P: "So as you may have anticipated.. I'm not gonna come up after all :( I just can't fathom going home on the train at midnight wearing what im wearing and feeling how I'm sure I'll be feeling..."

A: "Aight, Well I guess no need to rush back then, feel better babe. We'll get up some other time. Just him me up n lemme know :)"

P: "I'll hit u when I get home so we can chat... we can have a phone date! :D"

A: "LOL aight babe. ;)"

P: "For real tho I miss u.. wanna see u and hang out.."

Now if this had been last week, I woulda really been tight after having him cancel on me last minute like that. But ever since I wrote and read and reread and reread that blog post from last week and saw the fool I was becoming along with the fact that Pubby started looking different to me anyway ever since that day he snapped on me, it just became real easy to be indifferent about the whole thing. I shocked my damn self. And what was that last line about? Did I read that shit correctly?

Shortly after Pubby canceled on me, CancelCancel hit me up asking me whether I wanted to go out to BBQ's with him that night (they're doing the relay thing again). Now if this were last week I would have jumped at the chance to go out with CancelCancel, especially after Pubby just canceled on me, so in that case the night wouldn't be totally wasted right? Wrong. Why the fuck is a night with me and just me in my house, surrounded by all the lovely shit that I worked so hard to pay for a wasted night? That's bullshit. See, I'm tryna change the way I think. I was already gonna not go to my ab class at the gym that night in order to spend time with Pubby and Lord knows as much as I love me some ribs, BBQ's wasn't gonna do nothin' for my midsection. So I declined his offer, got my haircut, went to my ab class, did some lifting, came home and baked me some low fat buffalo wings and watched "Family Guy". Oh yeah and that phone date Pubby mentioned, it never happened, it's not as though I expected it to anyway.

Friday afternoon I took some more pics with Nathan "Seven" Scott out in Jersey (look out for more collabos between us in the future). After that I came back into the city and stopped by Verlaine, on the Lower East Side to have a drink with a really good friend from school that I hadn't seen in years. The cranberry vodka there is great, it hardly tasted like liquor and it was only four bucks. I scarfed that thing down like it was kool-aid. If I could have stayed there longer I know I woulda been fucked up, like my birthday party, fucked up (read that blog post here), but I had to meet DJ (DJ Baker of the Doo Dirty-Radio Show) who I've said is like my new big brother, at an open mic thingy up in Harlem. He wasn't the only person I was meeting there.

There's this guy who heard my appearance on DJ's radio show. He came to the blog and then he hit me up on MySpace, we messaged back and forth on there, we exchanged numbers and decided to meet up at this event last Friday night. You'd think I meet get hit on via internet by a lot of people, doing this blog but surprisingly I don't. Dont get me wrong, I get my fair share but I wouldn't call it excessive. Anyway back to the guy, he was cool, he's not on nickname status yet, we'll see where it goes. We all, me, him, his friend, and DJ ended up back at my house having a roundtable discussion about relationships into the wee hours of the morning. We were supposed to go to Shelter that night but the time got away from us and we decided against it.

Saturday, I met up with DJ again downtown to be a part of a taped roundtable discussion for to be included in a future radio show. On my way down there I was on the phone with Pubby and he was telling me about all of this dramatic shit that happened at Shelter the night before. I was so thankful that I didn't end up going to Shelter. The last thing I needed to do was to be around more drama, especially after the party I went to last week. While he was on the phone telling the story and just talking about, well, you know, ummm, Pubby stuff, like fashion, clothes, money, parties, being a part of the upper level of the caste system that is the New York black gay scene (which not to sound overly critical, can be a little superficial and somewhat monotonous at times, that is the scene and him talking about it) I mean, hey, I'm gay too and even I have my moments, we all do, but damn! I get tired of hearing about that stuff sometimes. Anyway, I noticed myself drifting in and out of the conversation as though I'd heard it all before and it never was that interesting to begin with. As much as I was trying to hold on he started to notice. He actually stopped a few times to ask me what was wrong with me and to tell me that I seemed disinterested.  Being the person I am I quickly and vehemently denied such accusations as not to sound the least bit shady. Before I would have been so enthralled listening to him go on about these things but I'm not so much anymore.

Actually I think that this is what it is. When I first met Pubby I knew full well that he was a scenester. He's a pretty boy. He looks good and he knows it. He knows people and people know him on the scene. He's used to going out and getting into the clubs for free, he's a snob, and will not associate or interact with with certain people because of it. He's into going out, drinking, partying, socializing, shopping and just living fabulously. I'm the total opposite, I'm not into the scene, I hardly drink or go out, and am pretty much unknown outside of my circle of friends and I'm totally fine with that. I know that it seems as though I'm painting this horrible picture of him and that we're total opposites and in a lot of ways we are and  a lot of our views are different. There are many times during our conversations when I will find myself holding my tongue as not to argue with him. But when we're alone together he's different. He sheds a lot of that public persona and can be a really sweet guy once you get him by himself. Because we haven't been alone together in a little while I haven't really had any tender unmasked moments with him and all I'm getting in our casual encounters lately is the public persona.

After I finished recording the show with DJ, Pubby and I decided to meet up while I was still Downtown. We were walking up the street and my cell phone rang. It was someone whom I've had several phone conversations with and may have been meeting up with later that night after me and Pubby parted ways. It was Saturday night and in true Pubby style he was going out to two or three parties. Me and the caller had a brief conversation as I was not trying to be rude to my present company. As soon as I hung up the phone Pubby said rather angrily:

P: "Do not talk to one of your dates while you're with me! That's disrespectful! I would not do that to you so don't do it to me!"

A: "How did you know it was a date?"
I said with a devilish smirk on my face.

P: "Don't insult my intelligence Adam! If it was not a date you would have said 'it's not a date'"

Silence. We walked up the street in total silence for the next 45 seconds. I'm not sure what the fuck just happened here. Am I in the fuckin' Twilight Zone or some shit? As amused as I could have been at Pubby's slight showing of jealously I was confused. Isn't this what he wanted, no strings, no commitments, just chillin'? Now he's goin' off on me about other dudes. Is it just as simple as I can just do whatever as long as he doesn't know about it? What I don't get is that he coulda had me, all of me, all to himself a few weeks ago and he didn't want that, he wanted to be "free." So now he's free and I'm free and I just got my head bitten off. But, it's all good, I'm not stressing it, honestly, the tinge of jealousy was cool, at least I know his ass is alive.

We ended up at a fast food restaurant where we had a really, really good convo. We laughed and talked about ourselves, our families, gay issues, politics, and other more genuine things. He even shared something with me that he never shared with anything else. As we conversed and I looked into his eyes I remembered why I started to like him so much in the first place. We continued our conversation as walked to the train station together and waited on the platform. We were going in the same direction but on two different trains. He asked me whether I was going out that night. I told him no, because I had to work in the morning. I also reiterated to him that going out wasn't my thing, it was his thing and that he knows that I like to chill at home. To that he said:

P: "Yeah so you can have your hoes come to the house."

A: "I won't even dignify that statement with a response."

He smiled as my train pulled into the station. I embraced him while slipping in a seductive peck on his neck. I hadn't kissed him on his beautiful pink lips in so long. He said that's he'd call me later that night. I smiled and stepped ontp the train knowing better than to expect my phone to ring that night.

Oh what a difference two days make.

==========
Playing in The Background...
"If I Could"
by Dru Hill
from the album "Dru World Order"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 11:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

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I realized that I haven't given y'all a dating update in a while so I thought I'd catch everyone up. New people I suggest you read this and this first.
Get ready 'cuz this is gonna be a long one.

Enjoy.
==========

These past two weeks were busy, yet fruitful, yet very trying ones for me. The coolest thing about posting the story of my life on a blog is that I get to see all of my bullshit in black and white. The even cooler thing about posting the story of my life on a blog as popular as this one is that everyone else gets to see all of my bullshit in black and white and will call me on it if I happen to fall back into it. It's like I've got hundreds of little internet angels watching over me. Like I said before it's so easy to rationalize your bullshit when it only lives in your mind. To put it on paper/internet makes it a tangible, legible thing that you then have no choice but to deal with.

Bad relationship habits, like acne and diabetes are just about impossible to cure. The key is to stay on top of them, giving them daily treatment in order to keep them under control. This treatment becomes a new habit which will eventually cancel out the old habits. Once you realize what your bad habits are, doing things not to trigger them becomes a part of your daily routine just like combing your hair or brushing your teeth, thus creating a new habit. As we have seen from my relationship pattern (read the post about that here) that I tend to like a guy and then start doing way too much, running after him if you will. Then when I don't feel like my efforts are being reciprocated properly I get hurt and out of that hurt I just up and dump the person and replace that person with the next person. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. I'm trying my best to avoid that by constantly reminding myself to relax, not rush things, and not take things so personally.

Being a Leo I can be an impetuous and somewhat emotional person. Unfortunately at times I'll let my emotions solely dictate my actions. I'll say or email something that I didn't put as much thought into as a should have, reacting to how I feel and once it's said or the send button is pressed there's no taking it back. My future PR person is gonna be working overtime dealing with me. That's why I usually try to give myself 36-48 hours before I write about an experience on this blog. I try to let all of my emotions run their course before I sit down to write so I'm able to tell the story in the most objective way possible.

Well we left off with CancelCancel and I not dating anymore (read about that in this post). Which brought me down to just dating Pubby. In the last few weeks Pubby and I have gotten closer, scratch that, I've gotten closer to him. But on the Friday before last I guess I got a little too close. I asked him something about where he'd been the night before and why he wasn't answering his phone. I realize that we aren't all that yet and we're both dating different people and maybe I was overstepping my bounds a little but when I call I'm used to used to him answering. I just wanted to know what was up. Maybe he was going through something I could have helped him with? I was actually a little worried about him, this was strange behavior.

So I asked him and he gave me the ol' "Sometimes I just don't feel like talking." line. If I had a quarter for every time I heard that one. Could somebody please tell me what the fuck that shit means? If you like somebody and you say you care about them and they call you why would not offer them the courtesy of at least answering the phone and saying "It's not a good time. I'll call you back later."? Maybe I'm just too nice but you'd think that be the thing to do. Then he proceeds to reiterate the fact that we're not "together" and I have no right to ask him any questions. He snapped at me. This nigga really just snapped at me, like what the fuck!?! So being totally over the whole situation we got off the phone. He called me back a while later and I didn't answer the phone. I was mad at him for snapping at me. I realized that I was letting myself get way too into him and that I would have to make a conscious effort to start being a little more indifferent toward him, thus the poem. Whenever I'm going through something that's when I'm inspired to write poetry and usually my poems take about five to thirty minutes to write. It's like I get this burst of creative energy and I have to write down exactly how I feel at that moment before I lose it. A few hours later he apologized to me via a long text message:

"I do apologize if I came off rather abrupt. Nothing I do is meant to hurt your feelings or is done out of spite. I can be a very blunt person and for the most part I tend to shoot from the hip. It takes a certain type of person to deal with my particular brand of brashness. No offense to you but I need to be me right now... Maybe you should rethink whether this is the type of situation u can honestly deal with. Because like I said u r an amazing guy and the last thing I would want to do is hurt you."

I'm sorry but a good portion of that was total motherfucking bullshit. Why do people feel that they can use being "blunt" and "shooting from the hip" as an excuse not to be nice? That's total fucking bullshit and a total cop out. If someone is nice to you you are nice to them, period. It was good for him to have apologized but he ruined it by then trying to make excuses for his behavior. If you're sorry, you're sorry, period. Making excuses for it made the whole apology half-assed. I was now really over it. I replied.

"It's whatever. Ima let u do u, Ima do me and we'll see eachother when we see eachother, no pressure and u don't have to worry about me being all up under  you tryna find out where u are or why u didn't call. We'll talk when we talk... we'll see eachother when we see eachother. I fully see what it is now and I'm not gon stress it."

For some reason this text message was not getting through to him. I tried three times that Friday night and he still never got it. The time my fucking balls finally drop, the fucking message doesn't go through. Ain't that some bullshit? Waking up that next morning, Saturday I was still mad at him though and was mustering up the courage to remain indifferent. I like him and all that but the hot/cold thing wasn't cool. I didn't deserve that shit. So he texted me that morning, the same day I taped my appearance on Da Doo-Dirty Radio Show and I tried my best to keep things as dry as possible.
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