I believe that everything and everybody comes into your life for a reason and a season, and that all things, good and bad have some type of purpose, however trivial or indiscernible, but a purpose nevertheless.

That brings me to Steven. A while back I met a guy, lets call him Steven. Steven was my type, short, thin build, beautiful face and a ridiculous body, thin and toned, just like I like it, a pretty boy, sexy as hell. I met Steven out one day on a fluke, out somewhere where I didn't even plan to be and he was just there. We had a few drinks, we ended up talking, flirting, the attraction was definitely there. Then he began to talk about his boyfriend, how they were having problems and were about to break up. How his boyfriend was cheating and how as of late it'd become disrespectfully apparent.

I mean, you know how it is when you're bitching to someone else about how wack your boyfriend is. Not only are you trying to convey how bad he is to them, but deep down inside you're still trying to convince yourself that you should leave him alone when you know that there's a part of you that still loves him in spite of what he's done. So yeah, it was basically that. He was flirting with me while talking shit about his boyfriend, but most importantly flirting with me... hard. He kept talking about seriously breaking things off with his boyfriend on a slant toward trying to start something with me. Yeah, right. That was obviously the liquor talking. But he was sexy, and I was single and horny, so I went along with it. Fuck it.

See, two years ago, I may have fallen for that whole thing, the whole I'ma leave my triflin' ass boyfriend for a better man like you bullshit. Back then I may have listened to it, I may have even allowed the misguided glimmer of hope to enter my mind that I could get with this fine-ass dude just like that. I felt bad for him hearing his story and yeah I was definitely a better man and yeah I could've definitely treated Steven better than his man was treating him,. His dude was crazy for cheating on him like that, Steven was fine, he seemed pretty nice, he was a cool dude, and did I mention that Steven was fine. But being the smarter person I am now I realized that I was only hearing one side of the story and at the end of the day I didn't even know this nigga like that. Now, don't get me wrong, on some regular shit, if we were both unattached, I could definitely pull this nigga if we were like in a club or out on the street or something, but under these circumstances, no. I'm so not trying to get involved in all of his relationship drama. The best I could hope for with Steven was a roll in the hay and that'd be that.

Eventually, after a few days and a few messages exchanged back and forth Steven and I met and well... I fucked him. And it was good, damn good, everything I'd imagined it to be and then some. There's no better feeling than to finally be able to stick your hard throbbing dick inside of the object of your desire and watch as he enjoys every millisecond of it, each stroke and thrust taking him to higher heights and deeper depths of illicit ecstasy, to watch his beautiful head and juicy lips bob up and down on your pulsating dick, to have all your recent masturbation fantasies fulfilled all at once.

He came while I was still inside of him and once I pulled out to cum all over him I leaned down and whispered in his ear "I already know I fuck you better than ya man. It's okay you don't have to admit it." and smiled slyly, as he smiled back in agreement we looked into eachother's eyes and we connected. I liked him and I believed he genuinely like me too, in fact he told me that as we were getting all cleaned up. He told me that he wanted to see me again and implied that I should be patient with him while he straightened things out with his man. As fast as Steven was feeding me these lines I'm shook them all off in cynical disbelief, not even for a second allowing them to latch onto my psyche. Who the fuck does this nigga think I am, Monica Lewinsky or somebody? Fuck outta here. I've been down this road before and it's not a scenic one. The saddest thing about it was that he was actually believing the things that he was saying.

As the days went by I would still hear from Steven, albeit less, with much less urgency. In an effort not to allow myself to get caught up I wouldn't be so quick to reply to his messages, even as they were fewer and further between. One day we finally talked on the phone and I was really honest with him about how I felt about him. I told him that he was cool and I liked him and that the sex was great but I thought that that was all it should be. Maybe if the timing were different it could have been more than that. I continued explaining that though what his man was doing was wrong that what we did was wrong as well and since we were lucky enough not to get caught that we probably should just leave things where they were, why test fate? We could enjoy our night for what it was and hold on to the memory. He then agreed and went on to tell me that he got back with his boyfriend the night before.

See kids, the moral of the story is this. As nice as I am and as great a lay as I was, Steven didn't really want me. Oh no, Steven wanted to get even. Steven's rendezvous with me put him and his man on the same level. You can't really sit around crying and bitching about what a horrible cheater your boyfriend is when you're doing the same shit. Once the fucking was over and the nutts were busted I'd imagine that Steven was able to put himself in his boyfriend's shoes and in rationalizing his wrongdoing he found a way in which to rationalize his boyfriend's transgressions. So in a way we both got what we wanted. I wanted to fuck him, he wanted me to fuck him and he also wanted to find a way to feel better about him and his boyfriend's situation. Everybody wins. Of course, I wouldn't get the chance to get to know Steven better but I was smart enough not to expect that in the first place. no matter how good my dick was.

The idea that one night of good sex could be enough to bring someone out of a relationship is ridiculous. I learned from past experience to never get caught in with a nigga who's dealing with relationship drama. As much as he may tell you that he likes you and wants to get with you, given whatever drama he's in, he truly doesn't know what the hell he wants. I always say, as fly as you may be, as good as you may be, you could look better, dress better, fuck better, and just all around be better, but the one thing you can never fuck with is the past. If someone is in something and they've been in it for a while it's gonna take them a while to move on to someone else, that is if they even decide to move on to somebody else. You can't compete with the past, with all those memories and shit, and until that person is ready to let go of the past there's nothing you can do. As much as I would have like to have gotten to know Steven, the timing was off. I mean hey, there's always the future right? Given the statistics and the law of averages where gay male relationships are concerned there's a good possibility that there will be a time where me and Steven will both be single at the same time and we could possible get together the right way.

In the end I don't regret me and Steven's night together. The sex was good and in some strange way it seems to have contributed to Steven and his boyfriend staying together. Hey, I do what I can.

Today, Steven and and his boyfriend are still together and Steven and I haven't communicated since.

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Playing In The Background...
"Timing"
by Jaguar Wright
from the album "Divorcing Neo 2 Marry Soul"
and
"Next Lifetime"
by Erykah Badu
from the album "Baduizm"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 08:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

"I'm thinking to myself this man has no respect for me..."
Mary J. Blige
from the song "It's A Wrap

This past week we'd been experiencing an unseasonable heatwave here in New York City. In my neighborhood of Harlem, the black gay mecca it is, the boys have been out, all times of the night. Standing on the street corners, talking and chillin' with friends tatted up, in fitteds, cut off shirts, wifebeaters, sweatpants, and sagging shorts that show off the perfect amount of ass in the back and just enough dick print in the front to tease. Lingering looks and flirtatious stares are exchanged, making the sexual tension so thick it's hard for the cars to drive through it. It's cheatin' season. After being hugged up, snuggled up, bunned up, and booed up all winter the kids are coming back out to play. Hot fun in the summertime, the clubs, the beaches, the streets and not to mention Sizzle in Miami, make this a trying season for relationships.

I've been thinking a lot about cheating lately, not about going out and performing the action of cheating, but about cheating in general. Most people would say that cheating is a breach of the love covenant of a relationship. I believe that cheating is breach of respect. Just because you go out and fuck someone else doesn't necessarily mean that you don't love your unsuspecting partner at home, you just don't have much respect for them at the time. Uh huh, you ever watch "The Maury Povich Show", he has cheating husbands on his show all the time, they take lie detector tests and everything. While the husbands almost always fail the cheating questions quite miserably, the one question they almost always pass is "Do you love your wife?" Sure they love their wives, but they just couldn't resist the lure of some stray pussy on the side. Cheating isn't so much about your partner, it's about you and your selfish desires. Yeah, I got a dude at home, but this dude looks good too and he wants me, so I'ma get some of that too, who's gonna know?

Being a person who has cheated and who has also been cheated on. I can speak from both sides of the spectrum. The worst thing about being cheated on besides being haunted by the act itself is being lied to and kept in the dark about it, especially if your partner cheats on you with someone you know, there's nothing worse than that shit. Both of these bitches smiling in your face knowing that they did what they did... what the fuck? Sorry, I had a flashback. Anyway, this is where the respect issue comes in. Nobody likes being played like a fool.

Being a person who has cheated I can say that often times your partner wouldn't want to just come out tell you that he cheated, not necessarily because the affair is still going on, because it could be believed that most cheating in general is a one-time or a string of different one-time things, but because they may feel bad about it and just wanna move on without having to endure the consequences of you finding out. Selfish, once again, but that's what cheating is about, self-gratification at the expense of the one you love. And like those husbands on "The Maury Show" upon seeing their wives, hurt and crying, you can see the remorse in their eyes, many of them I'm sure thinking 'was the stray pussy really worth all of this?' It usually isn't, but by that time it's too late and what's even more sad is that all the drama could have been avoided.

Sex, like love a lot of times is like a high, it's illogical, it's electric. God designed them that way so that we as human beings would be attracted to each other. Without the desire for love and sex we'd all live as autonomous pods with no perceived need for each other and the human race would go extinct. When under the influence of sex, things could happen, stupid things, like cheating. What's the number one thing a cheater says to an angry partner? "Baby I'm so sorry, forgive me. It was stupid. I wasn't thinking." You damn right you weren't thinking, you were high off that sex right then. But that irrational behavior is hard to explain to an angry, rational partner. It's not that you didn't love them while you were fucking that other person, your mind was too clouded by your own desires to think of how your actions showed such an overt lack of respect for them.

That's why today I want to appeal to your thoughts, to your intellect before you get under the influence of sex and selfish desire again. So many of the mistakes we've made in the throes of passion can be avoided if we just took a moment to think before we act. So before you or I get tempted again to go out and do some dumb shit this summer. I have constructed ten questions we should all ask ourselves anytime we are tempted to cheat.

1. How did I get MYSELF into this situation?
A lot of the time we end up cheating because we have lulled ourselves into believing that the situation is happening to us and we're kinda just caught in it, bullshit. The only way something like that could even be slightly possible is if you're in a club bathroom and some random cute guy says "I wanna suck your dick right now!", but even then a decision has to be made and you still have to agree to it. Most of the time cheating doesn't just happen. It's usually pre-meditated and very subtle, not even necessarily deliberate, especially in this technology age. Case in point: A cute guy hits you up on Facebook or MySpace, he's being inappropriately flirtatious (you know it's inappropriate if you wouldn't want your boyfriend to read it), but he's cute and you like the attention so you don't exactly shut him down by saying I have a man. Days go by and more messages are exchanged. Some are funny, some make you smile, you start learning little things about each other, little things you have in common, things that make it easier to rationalize the continuation of a "friendship" ("he just my friend, baby") you know is wrong. Phone numbers are exchanged. Text messages ensue. It all seems so innocent until one day you end up meeting your new "friend" and of course all of that sexual tension has been mounting. You look into his eyes, and he into yours, you kiss and well, you know the rest. Now once the nutts are busted and the sex is over you come down from the high and realize what you'd done. You cheated. So before all of that happens think about what you have done to put this into motion, what your role is in the situation because you certainly have one and now think of what you can do to get out of it.

2. What if the shoe was on the other foot?
You've seen it on all the movies and the TV shows. When the wife is cheated on the first question she always asks her husband with mascara running down her face, looking like a sad raccoon is "Do you love her?" I remember asking that question myself. "Do you love that nigga?" But being a man who was cheated on as opposed to being a woman, we tend to ask more sexual questions. Men are territorial creatures, so cheating on a man not only breaks his heart, but it fucks with his ego, something which can prove to cause a lot more damage. I remember being cheated on and asking questions like: Did you let him touch you the way I touch you? Did you kiss that nigga? Did you moan his name the way you moan mine? Did you suck his dick like you suck mine? Was that nigga inside you? Not to discount the plight of a cheated-on woman at all but it takes a strong-ass man to take a partner back after he fucked with someone else. And not to discount the plight of a cheated-on bottom, and maybe I'm just speaking from my experience here, but it's especially hard if your shawty was fucked by another dude. You look at him and all you see is that, some other nigga's dick inside of him It's like you can't even look at him the same way anymore, it's as though he's been scarred, soiled indelibly. Either way, it's a hard thing to rebound from and many couples don't. So before you do what you're about to do think about how you would feel if it was done to you.

3. Why am I cheating?
As I stated before, cheating is a selfish action. If you are cheating I would hope that you are doing it for your own selfish pleasure. Never cheat on your partner because they cheated on you and you just wanna get back at them. You're gonna give your body away and risking getting an STD (yes, because every time we lay down with anyone, especially someone new there's always that risk, use condoms people) just to spite someone else, that's just stupid and it won't make you feel any better. If you're mad at your partner because he cheated on you and have resorted to cheating on him for revenge sake, you obviously haven't fully talked and worked things out with him. Do that. Passing hurt and pain back and forth will never solve anything. If you don't want him leave him alone, but don't stay just try to attempt to make him feel the pain you felt when he cheated on you. That's petty, and dumb and will do nothing to help you heal. Another major reason for cheating is not being satisfied sexually or even emotionally by your partner. Have you been honest with your partner about this? As hard as it may be to tell your partner that "you're an unfeeling bitch who can't fuck worth a damn" that would still be much easier for them to hear than "baby, I cheated on you." And if the sex is that bad with your partner and it just can't be worked on. The respectful thing to do would be to go your separate ways and allow yourself and your partner to find people whom you are both more sexually compatible with. If you're nice enough about it, you both may even be able to be friends after it's all said and done, but don't try to hold on to them and still have your thing on the side, that's selfish. The other major reason people cheat is because they're horny and it's there and they can. In that case it's probably really not worth it. Pop in a porno, get some Vaseline (my favorite), grease up your hand, get your favorite dildo or fleshlight and try that out first. A lot of times once you bust that nutt and aren't so horny anymore you get over it.

4. What about diseases?
A lot of us in committed relationships get to a point where we stop using condoms. We can dispute whether this is right or wrong, but what we can't dispute is that it's real and that it's happening. If you are in a monogamous relationship with someone and y'all don't use condoms, how are you gonna fuck with somebody else and then go back to them like nothing happened? Even if you use a condom with the other person there's still a risk. I'ma keep it real, I've been in the no condom, monogamous situation before and one thing that's kept me when I've been tempted to wild out is that fact that I would not want to expose my shawty, someone I love, to a disease just because of my selfishness. It's one thing for me to fuck around and get caught out there, but to give that to someone else, especially the one I say I love isn't right. And I have said all that to say on record that we should all use condoms with every one, every time.

5. What is it about this person that makes them better than the person I'm already with?
Is he thinner, fatter, more muscular, sexier, better looking, does he have a bigger dick, fatter ass, of a different sexual role than your partner? Think about why you must have this person right now at the risk of your relationship. If he's all that let your partner go and be with this other person.

6. Would you want to be in a relationship with this person you are about to have this affair with?
The mistress is usually the mistress for a reason. The husband hardly ever leaves the wife for the person he's sleeping around with, she's just something to do. Think about the person you are about to cheat on your partner with, who is he? Where is he from? Do you know him? What do you know about him? What makes him so special that you'd risk everything to do this with him? And if he's all that special why can't you just be with him the honest way by telling your partner and cutting the relationship off to pursue something with this new person? Is it because you still love your partner? So what are you doing this for, again?

7. Do I really think he's NEVER gonna find out?
A lot of us engage in cheating because we figure, 'hey, he'll never know'. But how realistic is that? Living in New York City, the largest city in this country, with the largest black population, which would by default have the largest black gay population of any city in this country, I have realized that even with that, all of us know each other. If the world lives within six degrees of separation, we live within two. The idea of something happening and having it kept a total secret is highly unlikely, especially if it's something as juicy as an affair. If you tell your best friend and the other person tells their best friend it's basically a wrap from there. And looking at the bigger, more existential, more spiritual picture, what's done in darkness will always come to light. If you have not fully thought about the possibility of your partner finding out about your indiscretion, and I don't mean what lie you're gonna tell to cover it up, you should not be doing it.

8. Can I live with myself after having done this?
Okay, so it happened, you got lucky. Nobody knows about it, well not exactly nobody, because you know about it. As human beings we all have a conscience, and for most of us it's gonna be mighty hard keeping this secret, day in and day out, from a partner you say you love, looking into their trusting face knowing that you have betrayed them. For some of us, it probably won't be so hard, but then again, what does that say about the kind of person you are? Contrary to popular thinking, the longer you keep it in, the worse it will be when you finally confess, 'cuz more than likely, somewhere down the line, you will confess. Even if you don't confess, you may get drunk or high one night and the truth may slip out (that happened to a friend of mine). Either way, it's an uncomfortable thing to have deal with, not to mention the fear that you will always have that your partner is cheating on you, because you cheated on them. You bust a nutt one night and have to harbor all that shit in your psyche for the rest of your life, it it really worth it?

9. Am I prepared and okay with him leaving me if he finds out about this?
If you can answer yes to that question you need to stop wasting your partner's time and just break up with him. You obviously don't want him that much anyway. If you answered no, like most anyone would then you need to ask yourself the next question.

10. Is it really worth it?
This is the true and underlying question. Think about all the time and energy you have invested into your relationship. The joy, the pain, everything y'all have been through. You know his mama, he knows your mama. He knows all about you, your favorite drink, how you like your coffee, he DVR's all of your favorite TV shows. He loves you when you have money, when you're broke. He's seen you with a haircut and a shave, and without it. He's seen you when you look fly, he's seen you when you look busted. He's even seen you cry. Do you wanna risk throwing that all away, do you wanna risk breaking his heart, do you want to make him cry? All just to fuck with another dude you probably don't even know. What does that say about the respect you have for him? Is it truly worth it?

So there you have it. Stop and think about these things next time you're in a situation you know you shouldn't be in. Think and then follow your heart, see the difference it makes, if any.

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Playing In The Background...
"Before He Cheats"
by Carrie Underwood
from the album "Some Hearts"
and
"It's A Wrap"
by Mary J. Blige
from the album "Love & Life"
and
"Was It Worth It"
by Keyshia Cole
from the album "Just Like You"
and
"It's Not Fair"
by Glenn Lewis
from the album "World Outside My Window"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 09:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

This has been such a crazy week. I've been like super busy. Well, as you know I've been at my new job for a couple of weeks now. I absolutely love my job, I'm so blessed. It's like this job was created just for me, actually it kinda was as I am the first person to have held my position at my job. So yes, it was created just for me. I enjoy the work I do and I even get along with everybody. It's a perfect fit and I'm so grateful. At my job I'm a new supervisor, supervising people who have been there much longer than I have, some of which have never had to deal with a supervisor before. Normally this would be a recipe for disaster, but it's all worked out so beautifully (Thanks again Mr. Jesus).

The only minor issue I'm having is that now that I'm working back in the hotel business again me and Chester, Chet, my boo, have opposite schedules. I'm the Overnight Supervisor at my hotel and Chet works during the day at his job like normal people. Our jobs are actually walking distance from each other, it's just that we're never at them at the same time. During the week we don't see each other like we used to and although we spend basically every night sleeping in the same bed, either at his place or mine, it's not too often that we get to sleep in that bed at the same. It's like, when I'm coming from work he's going to work and when he gets home from work I'm asleep, about to wake up and get ready for work, leaving us hardly any snuggle time if any at all. It's like we're two ships passing in the evening. And sex, forget about it, we've basically relegated that to a weekend activity, although sometimes he may give me a little somethin' somethin' before I leave for work some nights and that's never a bad thing, definitely puts a spring in my step. I feel like we're running a relay race. He comes in from work with the baton, passes it to me and I run back out with it.

Yesterday, rather the day before yesterday was even worse, we didn't see each other at all. I left work Tuesday morning as he was on his way to work. I slept all day and I had to wake up that evening to film another episode of "The Mocha Lounge" with Rob Smith, he had me and Dwight Allen O'Neal as guests (that should be coming out in the next week or so). From there I went straight to work and then yesterday morning right after I left work, while Chet was of course going to work, I spent the day at Starbucks on my laptop working (I work much better at Starbucks than I do at home. At home I say I'm gonna work, but I always just end up taking a nap.), finishing up the website for Bleu Magazine, getting it ready for its relaunch. I stayed downtown all day doing that just so I'd be able to meet up with Chet after he got off work. I had to see him. We were texting and chatting on Yahoo all day talking about how much we missed each other. I know that it's not a big deal, and I sound a little whiny, but I missed a whole day with my baby. We ate together and headed back uptown so that I could take a catnap before work.

Our schedule thing, although marginally inconvenient isn't the biggest deal in the world. It's not an insurmountable odd, just a hurdle in this race of love we're running together. Lawd, that was corny. LOL Yeah, we whine to each other and are babies about it at times, but we're both adults and know that sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. This situation definitely makes us appreciate the time we do have together though, which is still quite considerable. It's not like we're living in different states or something. Our ships have been passing each other all week long, but trust and believe that this ship will be docking into port all weekend long if ya know what I mean. ;)

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Playing In The Background...
"Sobeautiful"
by Musiq Soulchild
from the album "On My Radio"
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PS: Thanks to everyone who left such nice comments when I changed my relationship status on Facebook.

PPS: For those of you wondering why I call my boyfriend "Chester". Chester is the name of the county he was born in and one of our favorite presidents is Chester A. Arthur.

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 04:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | 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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Welcome to yet another "Ask Adam..." blog post. Where readers of the blog send me their life, love, sex, relationship and other pressing questions. I'll do my best to answer and advise them here on the blog and other readers will be able to weigh in too.

Enjoy.

If you ever want to email me a question, problem or issue to possibly be shared here or just wanna say "Hi." click here to send me an email (try to keep it under 500 words please). And of course whatever you send is anonymous, you don't even have to give your name.
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Okay, from this day on I'ma have to enact a length limit on these letters y'all send me. Some of the letters I receive from y'all are kinda short and tend lack necessary details that would help me get down to the root of the letter writer's problem, leaving me to have to make assumptions sometimes and that's okay, I guess, but every so often I get letters that are way too long, filled with all kinds of superfluous details that convolute and obscure the issue at hand. I know that some of you are hurting, and you mean well, but for efficiency's sake and my own sanity I'm limiting y'all to 500 words or less per advice letter. That's more than enough space to open your hearts to us without getting all rambly.

Today's reader letter was a prime example of one of the longer letters I've received. It gave events and times and dates, and even names (y'all please don't put folks names in your letters to me) which all made for an interesting background story, but never quite got to the root of the problem. Fortunately, the writer of the letter summed things up quite astutely in the last sentence of the last paragraph of his letter. And because this writer's problem is such a universally gay, and probably straight issue I've decided to leave off the details in an effort to open this up to everybody. So only that last paragraph is what I'm reposting here today:

"Dear Adam,

...So now I find myself missing the guy that broke my heart. Not only that, I realized I've compared everyone I've dated to him and that's the reason I left the other guys. I know that was wrong but everything about them felt wrong when everything about him felt right. I find myself crying because I miss this guy so much. And my family tells me to let it go and that I should have been over it. It's been almost and year and I still find myself in love with someone that didn't obviously give a damn about me. HELP! What should I do?

 -Lost & Confused"

Lawdy, lawd, lawd, lawd I've been here before. I sang this song, I starred in the play, and the movie and even scored the soundtrack. As I've said many times before, unrequited love is some ol' bullshit and probably the one of the greatest emotional pains a human being can feel.

Unfortunately, yeah, I've totally been here before too many times. But by the grace and patience of God I think I've finally learned my lesson so I will try my best to impart my newly acquired truths to you. Okay L&C you gotta face some hard facts.

The Hard Facts:

Homeboy, him, the one who left you, he don't want you no more and ain't a damn thing you can do about it. You can cry, you can pout, rehearse shit over and over again in your mind, driving yourself crazy, none of that will bring him back. There's nothing you could have done differently to have made him stay. Ultimately, if he wanted to stay he would have stayed, but he didn't. He is gone, gone, gone. Period. Gone.

He doesn't give a damn about you anymore... and that's okay. Just because he doesn't care about you anymore that doesn't make him a bad person. You are not in a relationship with this man anymore, he isn't obligated to care about you anymore and that doesn't make him a heartless monster. I'm sure you encounter thousands of people each and every day that you couldn't give two runny shits about and I wouldn't call you Hitler. And you aren't upset because those thousands of runny shit people don't care about you. Why? Because unlike homeboy you don't expect them to care about you. You're upset with homeboy because he's not meeting your expectation, an expectation that he doesn't have to meet anymore. Him not giving a damn about you, as you say, should be even more encouragement to let his ass go. I fail to see the problem with it.

You say you still love him, but you are full of shit. It's been almost a year. You are not in love with him anymore, you are in love with "us". You miss the feeling of you and him. You want him back because of how his presence makes YOU feel. Have you ever given thought to the idea that wherever he is now that he may be really happy with that person, that he may have found everything that he was looking for? Doesn't that make you ridiculously happy? Of course it doesn't because you're full of shit. That's why you compare all the other guys you have dated to him, not because you miss him so much, but because you miss the feeling, the high you got from being with with him. Love and infatuation are a high, people. It's all mental, emotions aren't much more than endorphins, pheromones and dopamine. I'm not saying that anyone should become sterile and heartless, but we should become more mindful of who we choose to love and why. So instead of trying to get over him, grieve and heal yourself and quit him cold turkey, you were trying to find a quick fix with other dudes and are frustrated because it's not working.

He has stated with his absence that you don't make him feel the way he wants or needs to feel. That you don't make him happy anymore and if you truly love someone you would want them to be happy, even if it's not with you. Loving someone seldom means that you get exactly what you want, unless in loving someone you genuinely want them to be happy no matter what. And in that same way someone will come along who will love you and genuinely want you to be happy and hopefully they will be happiest with you and you with them. Sometimes the best way to love someone is to let them go. In wanting him back you are being selfish and by holding on to him you're stopping the one for you from coming along.

He is not hurting you anymore, you are hurting you. He has no more power over you than you are willing to give him. And the power that you are giving him he doesn't even want anymore as he's not even around to receive it. He is not the enemy. These hurt feelings that you are feeling you are bringing them upon yourself trying to hold on to something that isn't yours anymore. The relationship is dead, you grieve, you reflect and you move on. You have to move on, you have no choice. He's living his life, it's time for you to live yours.

The lesson that I want you to learn from all of this is that you are more powerful than you think. This whole thing is all about you, not him. He is gone. He is not an issue anymore. He can't hurt you because doesn't exist in your life anymore. It's only in your mind where you have the power to resurrect him and the idea of him in your life. A lot of times in our lives it's not about what happens to us but what we allow to happen to us. In my past when I was where you were, realizing that I was not the helpless victim that I was painting myself out to be and that in many ways I was full of shit my damn self really helped me to snap out of it. It ain't magic and granted you'll think of him and miss "us" from time to time, but like any addiction it's a day by day process, but you've gotta make the initial effort. What have you got to lose? You feel like shit anyway. Homeboy is gone, been gone for a year, it can't get no shittier. So now lets be a big boy, stop being a sissy and accept that he's gone and that that's okay and learn to let this go.

If you ever want to email me a question, problem or issue to possibly be shared here or just wanna say "Hi." click here to send me an email (try to keep it under 500 words please). 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...
"I'll Find A Way"
by Blu Cantrell
from the album "So Blu"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 02:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | 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!

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

A while back I had a conversation with a group of fellow gay men about whether it's okay for a friend to sleep with another friend's ex. When I shared this story that I'm about to tell the whole group froze. I could feel everyone's eyes fixed on me, shooting rays of shock, judgment and disgust that roasted my flesh like a rotisserie chicken. I don't think anyone looked at me the same way for the rest of the discussion. I was afraid of that. I mean, it's not like I'm the only one that's ever done some triflin' underhanded shit. I'm just real enough to share my shit, in fact I know I'm not the only one, shit, as many homos as there in the conversation... LOL But now that I think about it, they got the abbreviated story, so I can kinda see why they felt the way they felt given that I never shared the state of mind I was in or the reason why I did what I did. Anyway, hopefully y'all will still love me after I share this.

It was Sunday, June 26th, 2005, the fourth Sunday in that month. In New York that is the day set aside every year for Pride festivities. On that day the gays literally take over New York, even more than we do every other day. While the gays were taking over New York I had plans for two gays in particular, myself and my boyfriend at the time, let's call him Michael, to take over another city, Philadelphia, about 90 miles away. At that time I was working as relief night night auditor at a hotel and my schedule really sucked. I worked every weekend, I was living at home and so was Michael so we really never got much of a chance to spend much quality time together (aka we didn't have the chance to fuck as much as I wanted to). I wanted us to get away but I only had two days off work in which to do it so we couldn't go too far. Philly was the perfect destination because it was far enough from the distractions of New York that we wouldn't be bothered by anyone but it was close enough that it wouldn't take a million years to get there.

On top of our time issues Michael and I just weren't getting along. We'd argue all the time and Lord knows I hate to argue. I felt that I was doing everything in our relationship and he contributed hardly anything, constantly taking me for granted. I was covering all the bases in our relationship, physically, emotionally, and definitely financially, did I mention financially? Not to get too cosmic on you but, he's a moody and at times bitchy Gemini and I'm an even tempered Leo, our upbringings were totally different from each other as well as our general outlook on life. They say opposites attract but we were steadily repelling. By that time we'd been together for about six weeks and I really liked him for the five minutes or so a day that he wasn't a total bitch or when we didn't fight. This being another one of my trademark, whirlwind relationships, we'd actually been through a lot in that short time, some of those things being, a major death in his family, his birthday, our sit down conversation with RuPaul in the Village, etc. I just didn't want things to end. I figured that this trip to Philadelphia and us having some time alone was just what the doctor ordered.

Maybe a week or two prior Michael and I were hanging out on Christopher Street. That usually consisted of me buying him weed and going to this dark ass park on Hudson Street to watch him and my ex-best friend Chuck smoke it. I've never touched marijuana or any illegal drugs for that matter in my whole life. I hated that he smoked that nasty shit, yet I used to buy it for him, among other things, like the cell phone he called every fuckin' body else but me on, including that guy from New Orleans he was fucking around with. I was so dumb back then, I digress. Anyway, one night on Christopher Street we met his friend, his best friend, let's call him Jerry. The moment we first laid eyes on each other, standing on Christopher between Hudson and Greenwich a few steps from Chi-Chiz, there was attraction. Jerry was so sexy to me. Michael was on a whole 'nother planet, ignoring me and anyone that wasn't him and didn't even realize what was happening between me and his friend.

While Michael and Chuck were doing their thing, Jerry and I got to talking. Though we were attracted to each other things were very innocent. I thought that Jerry was sexy as hell but my heart was still wrapped up in Michael. That night as me and Jerry talked we realized that we had so much in common, we were both raised in church, we both liked gospel music, and we were both homebodies. Jerry smoked weed, but hardly ever and he was actually in the process of trying to quit. He was just so nice and he actually listened to me and was genuinely interested in how I felt and what I had to say. It was such a breath of fresh air.

That night me, Michael, and Jerry went back to Brooklyn together on the train. When we got into the train Michael asked me for my iPod, something which he always seemed to be so fascinated by, and was sitting on the other side of the train, in another world listening to my extensive music collection obliviously while Jerry and I sat and talked. We were sitting there in his face, basically getting to know each other and Michael didn't say a word. Every so often I would look at him across the train and nothing, no reaction, no nothing. It's like he didn't care. As Jerry talked to me I can remember the movement of his full lips and the thin mustache that was wrapped around the top of them. I would have given anything to have those lips wrapped around my dick right then. Jerry was fuckin' sexy and so nice and we had so much in common and he listened to me. Damn, why couldn't I have met him first? As the train screeched toward his stop and he got up to exit, it took everything in me not to ask him for his number. I wanted to speak to him again. I wanted to kiss him. As much as I was attracted to him at the time I didn't think he felt the same way, at least not as strongly. We had shit in common and he was just being nice I figured. Once he left the train I turned and faced Michael, his aloof, indifferent ass, putting my earphones back in his ear after saying goodbye to his friend.

As days went by I never forgot about Jerry. I used to jerk off thinking about him, kissing those sexy ass lips of his and having them wrapped around my dick, laying next to him and just being with him. I didn't just want to fuck Jerry, I wanted to be with him. I wanted him to take me away from this passive-aggressive mess of a so-called relationship with his best friend that I was barely holding together with my good intentions. I wanted to call him so badly but I knew that there was no way for me to get in contact with him and that even though we had connected the way we did that he'd never betray his best friend. Maybe that's why Michael trusted him so much, that or he just didn't give a fuck about anybody but himself.

One night, again in the Village, only Chuck and I were hanging out, Michael and another friend of his had already gone home. I mean, I already bought the weed so why the fuck would he have to stay, right? We ran into Jerry and another friend of his in front of that supermarket on the corner of West 4th & Barrow. Jerry looked so damn good to me that night. I remember he had this white button down shirt on with pink stripes and he was talking to me again with those full lips and that thin mustache I'd been having so many illicit fantasies about. You'd think I would have gotten his number that night, right? Nope. All fantasies aside, I was still head over heels for Michael and Chuck was there with me. Even though he was supposed to be my best friend, Chuck had forged a weird weed smokin', sisterly bond with Michael. If I woulda asked Jerry for his number that night I know that bitch woulda told.

All this withstanding, I felt like our trip to Philly would be the cure to all of our relationship problems. So the day came, Sunday June 26th, we were gonna take the bus down that evening from Port Authority after making a quick in the Village by all the Pride festivities. I was running around like a madman all day doing all the necessary last minute things in preparation for our trip. I was really excited to go to Philly and just as excited to go to Pride that year because I'd never been before. Michael also informed me that we'd probably see Jerry out there before we left. Even though I'd been a while since I'd seen Jerry and I was grasping at straws, desperately trying to make this thing with Michael work out, the thought of seeing him again did excite me a bit.

As we were on our way from Michael's house he suggested that we skip the Pride festivities altogether and just go straight to Port Authority. I didn't want to do that because I had never been to Pride before and wanted to see it for myself. We argued about it. Michael didn't want to go because it was gonna be crowded and we had our bags. We didn't have a lot of bags though, it wasn't like we were going away for the rest of our lives here. He also stated that he'd been there many times before and didn't feel like going again. My argument was that I had never been before and that we were only gonna be there for a few minutes anyway. Like, what the fuck? Why did things have to be his way all the motherfuckin' time? Why couldn't he just work with me for once? He knew that I'd never been and that I was excited, what was the big fuckin' deal with dragging a bag for a couple of blocks?

Being that I was paying for the trip and everything else I won the argument. I was dragging his ass to Pride. I sat there in the aftermath, in the bittersweet victory of winning the argument we never should have had in the first place, listening to Keyshia Cole's "The Way It Is Album" (that had just dropped that last Tuesday) in silence. We hardly exchanged any words on our ride to West 4th that night. At that point I was having second thoughts about everything, about this trip, about this so-called relationship, about what the fuck was I doing here? Here I go planning all this shit and he's arguing with me about this one small thing. I just didn't understand. What more would I have to do? It was like his way or the highway all the time.

When we ascended from the subway station at West 3rd and 6th Avenue I saw that Michael was right. It was crowded, crowded as fuck, homos and lezzies as far as the eyes could see. I'd never seen anything like it before in my life. There were so many people that I talked to, messed with and hooked up with all in one place that we could have started a game of "This Is Your Life" right there on West 4th. I never acknowledged that Michael was right though. I was not gonna give him the satisfaction. I simply remained unbothered as we dragged our bags down the crowded sidewalk, bumping and pushing our way through the crowds. I wasn't gonna let that or Michael's constant sulking, whining, or bitching ruin my good time. If he wants to be an inconsiderate little bitch, then fuck him.

After a little while, Michael got his way and it was time to go. He mentioned that he wouldn't be able to say goodbye to Jerry before we left because Jerry was running late coming from church. I was a little disappointed. I know it was wrong and crazy but a part of me really wanted to see Jerry again. As we sat in the back of the taxi I just hailed, zipping up 6th Avenue, Michael got a phone call, yeah, on that phone that I'd been paying for. The call was from Jerry who had just got out of the train station, saying sorry that he missed us. They talked for a few minutes and then he asked to speak to me, just to say hello. I returned the pleasantry, nothing major, nothing incriminating anyway. I just enjoyed hearing the sound of Jerry's voice again. When Michael got off the phone he snuggled up next to me and it didn't feel right, suddenly it didn't feel so great anymore. Michael didn't look the same anymore and being with him didn't feel the same anymore. I was getting over him. I had a serious crush on my boyfriend's best friend.

While we waited for our bus at Port Authority everything Michael did just annoyed the shit out of me. I was so fuckin' tired of him and his bullshit. I was tired of him never having no damn money and always in my pocket for shit. I was tired of his annoying ass obsession with Beyonce. I was tired of him being so fucking ungrateful, thinking that everything I did for him I should be feel privileged to motherfuckin' do. Was he crazy? Did he see who I am and who the fuck he was? I was hanging around in the projects to be with this nigga. I had a good job, making good money, great for someone who was only 21 years old at the time. I didn't need this bullshit. As wrong as I realize I was now for thinking so aristocratically, he made me mad and it was how I felt at the time. You'd think with all of that pent up resentment that I would have just said fuck it and canceled the trip but I was way too much of a pussy for that. I figure I'd give it one last try and besides I was horny as shit.

So we arrive to Philadelphia late that night and I get jipped on an overpriced cab ride from downtown to our hotel across the Schuylkill River on City Line Avenue. We settle into our room and the first thing this nigga goes for is the pay-per-view, always tryna find a way to spend my motherfuckin' money. We had sex that night. I thought about Jerry the whole time, wishing that I was here with him instead of with Michael.

I woke up that next morning and went downstairs to the lobby for breakfast while Michael slept. I didn't bother waking him. I found out that I was too late to catch breakfast so I went back upstairs and saw that he was still asleep. Just then the most devilish thought came to my mind. I looked over Michael's nightstand at his cell phone, you know, the one that I was paying for. I picked it and took Jerry's number from it. I couldn't get Jerry off my mind and I had to speak to him again. After I programmed the number in my phone and carefully placed the phone back on the nightstand. I quietly snuck out of the room and went back down to the lobby to try to work out the breakfast thing and once I got that all squared away, I sat in a comfy, over sized chair and called Jerry.

Jerry and I talked for about a half hour. The conversation was totally innocent, nothing sexual at all. It was just good to get away from Michael and talk to someone else for a while. Which is funny because the whole point of this excursion was to get closer to Michael and here I go running away from him. I was still on the phone with Jerry as I walked back into our room, finding Michael awake this time. He asked me where I was. I replied, telling him that I was downstairs and continued my conversation. I walked over to the window, looking out on the Greater Philadelphia area, talking a mile a minute, knowing that Michael was wondering who I was talking to with such joy in my tone, so different from the inflection of misery and frustration in my voice when speaking to him as of late. I looked into Michael's questioning eyes and said into the phone:

"Oh, Jerry, Michael wants to speak to you."

Michael and Jerry talked like the girlfriends they were as he readied himself to come back downstairs with me. When they got off the phone we left the room and headed down to the lobby. As we sat in the restaurant, ready to feast on our fabulous free breakfast that I had to pull a few strings to get. Michael looked at me soberly and said:

"Adam, there's something I want to talk to you about.."

'Why, whatever could this be?' I thought as I chewed on my made-to-order bacon omelette and some of the sweetest strawberries I've ever tasted. When we got back to the room Michael went into this whole thing about how he doesn't want me to talk to his friends and how his friends, interestingly enough not Jerry though, have stolen boyfriends from him in the past, yadda, yadda, yadda. I just looked at him. At the end of his speech he basically threatened me, saying something to the effect of that he betta not catch me talking to one of his friends again. I looked at him stone faced as I laughed inside. Who the fuck does this nigga think he is? I'm a grown ass man, I talk to who the fuck I wanna talk to! Maybe if he knew how to treat a nigga his friends wouldn't be able to steal 'em from him.

What was funny was that through all of that I don't recall Michael ever asking me where I got Jerry's number from. And if he did I must have said some smooth ass shit to get myself out of that one. Honestly, I'm not even sure why I went about that the way I did. I never made a move on Jerry or talked to him on the phone again for the rest of the time I was with Michael. I guess I just wanted to light a little fire under his ass since he was taking me so much for granted.

Later that day we went out. I wanted to be a total tourist and take advantage of all Philadelphia had to offer. As we waited on City Line for the bus back downtown I was listening to my iPod. He asked me what I was listening to. It was Chaka Khan singing "Stormy Weather" from the "Classikhan" album. I put one of my earphones to his ear, hoping that we could share in this classical jazz moment. He quickly handed it back to me saying:

"I don't listen to this kind of music..."

What the fuck? What the fuck does he mean "this kinda of music"? Like real music, with fucking instruments and shit? Oh I'm sorry, that's right, if it's not a song by Beyonce then it's just not good enough for you is it? I mean, damn. I like Beyonce' as much as the next fag but he was ridiculous. Slightly annoyed, I took my earphone back and fully immersed myself back into the world of Chaka. Once we got off the bus, I dragged his lazy, no walking ass all over downtown Philadelphia. It wasn't Tahiti or San Tropez but this was my motherfuckin' vacation dammit and I sure as hell was gonna enjoy it, with or without him. He warmed up after a while though. We saw the Liberty Bell, which he actually got into, ate cheesesteaks at Jim's on South Street, and even pretended to pick out wedding/commitment rings on Jeweler's Row. We had a good day.

Later that evening we retired back to our room at the hotel. While he was in the bathtub singing Beyonce' songs at the top of his voice sounding like a cat getting fucked for the first time, by an elephant, Chuck called me. I told him that I was still thinking of Jerry, purposely omitting from the story my phone number espionage caper from earlier that day.

When we got back to New York things hadn't changed much between Michael and I. I escorted him back to his house and we quickly parted ways. That night was the first time I chilled with one of my current best friends, who you all know as Russell. He was dating my ex-best friend, Chuck at the time who turned out to be a much better friend to Michael than he ever was to me.

Pretty soon after that Michael and I broke up. We were too different. He was too broke and too busy calling that dude he was fucking with from New Orleans on the phone I was paying for. Do you know he got caught up in Hurricane Katrina dealing with that fool? He's fine though.

Remember, when I said that I didn't call Jerry for the rest of the time that me and Michael were together. Well, about four and a half months later in November of 2005 I called Jerry. We got together. All through the course of our relationship he felt as though he was wrong for getting with me after Michael had been with me. There were even days that he would talk to Michael and never mention that he was seeing me. As cool as Jerry was, like his friend Michael he was kinda on the broke tip as well, but unlike Michael he was working and at least grateful for any help I gave him. I never minded helping him though. We didn't have much money as a couple but we sure had a lot of fun. Jerry broke up with me in January, 2006 on suspicion of infidelity. I didn't cheat on him. We met up and chilled together for two days sometime early 2007. He annoyed me with his Beyonce obsession, among other things and I stopped calling him.

Fast forward three years later. Michael has caught back up with me online. He's back in New York, living in the same projects he used to live in. He's been flirting with me, throwing me hints but I've been paying his ass no mind.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"You Make Me Wanna..."
by Usher
from the album "My Way"
and
"I'm Not Perfect" feat. The Clark Sisters
by Missy Elliott
from the album "This Is Not A Test"
and
"You've Changed"
by Keyshia Cole
from the album "The Way It Is"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

==========
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
==========

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.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Echo"
by Ciara
from the album "Fantasy Ride"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 02:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

People have been asking me lately exactly what it is that I'm looking for in a man. I always thought it was pretty obvious. I want what everybody wants in a companion, right? We all basically want the same things, right? Usually I'd say something like "Oh, I want him to be good looking and nice, etc." When asked this question by a close friend, I gave that answer and he stopped me mid-sentence, saying no, that he wanted me to be specific about the attributes I'm looking for in a man.

He as well as many other people, including many of our favorite celebrities is a big believer in the philosophy of "The Secret" and "The Law Of Attraction". I'm no expert on it, but as it has been explained to me it's putting the things that you want out there in the universe, speaking things into existence, calling those things that are not as though they were, if you will. He believes that you get the things you want in life by proclaiming exactly what is it you want and by putting that energy out there you will attract what it is you so desire. He says that often we put way too much thought, concentration and energy into the things we don't want instead of what we do want, so it's not to even ponder upon those things. He says that it's a waste of energy.

It's all about not so much about physically looking for the things we want, but more about having the faith that the things that we want will come to us if we are open to them. Sounds like good old fashioned prayer to me dressed up in new age clothing. Even the term "calling things that are not as though they were" derives from the Bible. The latter clause of Romans 4:17 says "...calleth those things which be not as though they were". This is one of the cornerstones of the "prosperity teaching" movement championed by many of your favorite televangelists such Creflo Dollar, Paula White and such. Of course this whole thing is very controversial and has its many supporters and opponents in the Christian faith. But I digress.

He has posted on a wall in his apartment a whole laundry list of attributes he wants in a man (no joke) and he has full faith that this man will eventually come to him. So to answer his and everyone else's questions I've decided to publicly post the attributes of my so-called perfect man. I'm writing them as though he already exists and we're already in a loving relationship and I'm just merely describing him to you all. This was actually harder than I thought it would be because I never really say down and thought about this stuff line-for-line. It was also hard not to mention the things I didn't want. Many times during this exercise I had to tame the cynical queen who lives inside of all of us in order to only accentuate the positive. So here it is:

Adam's Example Of The So-Called Perfect Man For Him:
I'm in a loving relationship with a man who is like this. I've broken his attributes down into categories sectioned in no particular order of importance.

Personality:
- He's not bougie and is very down to earth. He knows when to be quote-unquote "classy" and when to be quote-unquote "ghetto". He can adapt to any situation.
- He's a genuinely nice person and always has something nice to say about people, but he's no pushover and is a worthy opponent in a battle of wits.
- He's smart and is excelling in his career field of interest.
- He's confident in himself and his abilities.
- He's a good talker/communicator, but is also a good listener.
- He's not overly masculine and most certainly is nobody's thug but isn't a raging queen either. Most people see him would automatically assume that he's gay and he's cool with that.
- He's not selfish and recognizes the importance of compromise in our relationship.
- It makes him happy to make me happy just like it makes me happy to make him happy.
- He brings out the best in me and I in him.
- He has a good memory like I do.
- He's funny, likes to laugh and can give as well as take a good joke.
- He's a hopeless romantic like I am and believes in the power of love as much as I do.

Relationship Habits:
- Overall he's secure, but can be a little jealous at times.
- He's not argumentative and when we do disagree he doesn't like to end things without a proper, fair and agreed upon resolution.
- He has his own life, but makes time for me and puts me in a special position of respect as his partner.
- He values people and relationships with his own family and friends.
- When he loves he loves hard like I do.
- He's not the type to make me pay for all of the hurtful things his exes did to him.
- He's my biggest fan and I am his.
- He has my back and I have his.

Beliefs and Other Habits:
- He's neater than I am and likes to keep the house clean. He loves washing dishes, especially after I cook and he loves to iron.
- He has my same taste in music, movies, television and most pop-culture (even and especially the weird stuff) and is open to trying new things.
- He does not smoke anything or do any drugs but likes an occasional social drink.
- He is out and has no issues with being gay. He's so pro gay that he's damn near an activist.
- He had the same core religious beliefs and political affiliations as I do.
- He does not stress money and material things but instead puts more thought and energy into helping others.
- He's frugal and good with money, especially saving money, some even call him cheap at times. He just knows what to and what not to spend money on.
- He's an optimist and always sees the glass half full.
- He's consistent, faithful and always keeps his word.
- He always smells good.
- He has great hygiene habits, like exceptional.
- He's punctual and encourages me to be as well. You can damn near set your watch on his arrival.
- He's very supportive and encouraging of my dreams and aspirations.
- He's a hustler (not in the illegal way). He can't stand procrastination and is very much a "don't talk about it be about it" kinda guy.
- He's really into eating right and exercise. He often stops me from eating things I know I shouldn't be eating.
- He likes to read and encourages me to do more reading.
- He's into the arts and cultural stuff that I think is boring, like Broadway-caliber theatre, art museums, opera and stuff like that, but isn't an elitist snob about it and understands my distaste for these things, but drags me to them anyway.
- He's not perfect, but is a big believer in "The Golden Rule", has a strong conscience and always strives to do the right thing, and corrects me when I don't.
- He feels the same way I feel about children.
- He tells the truth and is honest, even if it hurts, but doesn't use it as an excuse to be an asshole.
- He takes pride in his physical appearance and mine.
- He lives life to the fullest, not taking anything for granted.
- His dream is to find the perfect man, settle down and live happily ever after.

Miscellaneous:
- His friends and my friends get along.
- He has a career in or a strong interest in fashion and can dress me when needed.
- His family is cool with him being gay and in turn they are really cool with me.
- He's really cool with me doing this blog and often suggests things that I should write about. When he has time he even proofreads it for me. I help him out however I can with his career as well.
- He has no criminal record.
- He lives in New York City. He loves New York as much as I do and has no plans to leave.
- His dream residence is some kind of multiple floor rooftop loft with great views of the city either in Brooklyn or Manhattan.
- He likes cats, especially Keisha, my cat.
- He can handle my super-religious family.

Physical and Tangible:
- He's shorter than me (I'm 6'0), actually he's 5'9 or less.
- He has a skinny, slim, slender, or petite build (height and weight proportionate, normal or underweight on the BMI chart) and weighs at least 10-15 lbs less than I do (I'm 160-165 lbs).
- His body is smooth, with hardly any body hair like me and whatever hair he wants to get rid of he regularly shaves and/or waxes.
- He has a ceasar-based short haircut.
- He only has piercing in his ears.
- People would describe him as pretty or a pretty boy.
- He's my age or younger.
- He has nice teeth and a beautiful smile.
- He's a great dresser.
- He's of African American or Hispanic descent or somehow has those mixed into his adjacent ancestry.

Sexual Characteristics:
- He is a bottom and has no issues with it and appreciates me being a top as much as I appreciate him being a bottom.
- He loves my dick just as much as I love his ass.
- He loves to suck my dick.
- He loves it when I eat him out.
- He's kinda freaky and is open to trying new things with me but hates threesomes and other group sexual activities like I do.
- He's not as open to the public with his sexuality as I am. Most people know him as a good boy, but he's a super freak behind closed doors.
- He understands the value of foreplay and a long passionate love making session as much as he does a quickie.
- He'll let me get some on the first date and not feel all weird about it.
- He has great hygiene habits, like exceptional.
- He regularly shaves and waxes the nether regions as needed.
- He is a sexual person a high sex drive like I do.

Overall:
He's the perfect man because he makes me feel perfect, he makes me better and I do the same for him.

So there it is, that's him Mr. Perfect, he's all that stuff. The jury's still out on whether I one-hundred percent believe that just because I proclaimed all of this stuff that this guy is just gonna up and ring my doorbell tomorrow. Either way it's good to have all my thoughts and wishes in such an organized format. 'Cuz often times we say that we know what we want but do we really? This exercise was a real eye opener. So what is your perfect man like? Or this this a whole bunch new age mumbo-jumbo?

==========
Playing In The Background...
"M-A-N"
by Chante Moore
from the album "Exposed"
==========

Addendum: Please be advised that the above is a long-ass list and the chances of someone coming along and possessing every one of the attributes listed is damn near impossible. I realize that. The exercise called for perfection and this is my perfect man and in the realm of perfection there's no need for holding back. Although there are a few deal breakers listed. Anyway, don't be hater and let me have my fantasy.
- Adam

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 11:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (11) | 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.

==========
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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Don't you just love it when you hear a song that summarizes your life and exactly what you're going through at that moment. I was on the train the other day and this song came on my iPod and I almost busted out laughing. I always loved this song (and Christina Milian I'm a huge fan of her and her beautiful self), but now it carries with it an even greater meaning. Christina, how'd you know?

Play this as you read this blog post:
Christina Milian
"Foolin'"

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Hey everybody,

It's been forty-one days and forty-one nights since the last time we talked, sure I've written about some stuff, answered some questions and have even given some advice but it's been a while, forty-one days to be exact, since we talked expressly and specifically about me. For anyone who hasn't read the last "Life Update" post, click here to check it out and catch up before you continue.

When we last left off I was depressed, recovering from the embarrassment of having a not-so-great turnout at that "No Shade" party thing I was involved in planning back in August and I had finally put my foot down regarding breaking things off with Pubby and had taken the drastic measure of changing my phone number to ensure that I wouldn't go back on my word.

The day I posted that last "Life Update" post, September 1st, Pubby called me, we talked for a while and I told him that I was changing my phone number and that I was not giving it to him and that I didn't wish to speak to him any longer, that I was tired of him using me, loving me in private and not in public, it hurt way too much. I was tired of being played and tired of the back and forth. I was tired of loving someone who didn't love me the same way. We ended our phone conversation awkwardly. Once the blog post I wrote about it was published he replied to it, it shocked me to see his name in my email box as he'd never replied to any of my blog posts before. But as he said in the letter he only replied to my blog post because that was the only way he could contact me. I read his letter and it was more of the same ol' thing, more of him turning things around and not taking any responsibility for his part in anything, as usual, like I'm crazy. I read it two more times and I deleted it. I deleted it from my email box. I deleted it from my phone. I deleted it from the server. I deleted it from my life. As much as it bothered me to do it I let him have the last word. We haven't communicated since. It's really over.

Many of you criticized me for doing something as drastic as changing my phone number to solidify a breakup, saying that I was only running away from my problems. With all the love in my heart I must say, no offense, but fuck you all, ye naysayers. Changing my phone number was the best motherfuckin' thing I've done in a long time. As the weeks rolled by, the act of changing my phone number became less of necessity and more of a symbol, a symbol of my strength, strength to admit that I was weak and needed a change. If I were as strong then as I am now I could have kept my perfect phone number the way it was, but I wasn't. Sometimes when you're not strong enough to walk away from something you've gotta run away, hence the change of phone number. In the past I've compared my relationship with Pubby to a drug addiction and when you wanna get over a drug addiction you go to rehab. When Britney and Lindsay and all the pop tartlets we know and love go to rehab they it's always located far away from the drug-ridden clubs of LA and New York because there's no way you're gonna get off drugs if you're around the shit all the time. That's why most rehab centers are in Idaho and Utah and other middle-of-nowhere, out-of-the-way places. No matter what anybody says, you are responsible for your happiness and your sanity. Do whatever you must do to maintain it and if people can't understand it, fuck 'em, with all the love in your heart. (LOL)

The more I took the focus off of Pubby and myself with him and onto me, I realized that I didn't want to call him and I was glad that he couldn't call me. Yeah, we could have emailed each other, but I didn't and he didn't. What I did was the best thing for me, I deserve to be happy, I deserve someone who is absolutely nuts about me the way I was for him and in a secondary way what I did was the best thing for him too, with me out of the picture he could stop using me as a crutch and focus on the person he's with. There's no hard feelings and I wish him all the best. PRAISE THE LORD, it's really over, no more "Foolin'" for me. I'm free, thank you Jesus.

In other news I'm very proud of myself because I've really gotten up on my exercise game. I've been in the gym at least four to five times a week for the past few weeks in preparation for the fall photo shoot I'm planning and because it's just good for me. It's about time I change the face of the blog again. I'm officially 25 so it's time to put all the silver shit away now. Look for a new photo shoot and a blog redesign in the next couple of weeks.

As far as my book is concerned it's in the research and development stage. I want to thank everyone for all of the numerous inquiries about the status of the book. It's coming, but I'm definitely not trying to rush it. As I've said many times before my life is a constant fight, a struggle against mediocrity and I refuse to put out just any ol' mediocre-ass book. So many books get published every day and slide right under the radar. I definitely don't want that for my book, but to answer your questions again, it's coming along. A special thanks to James Earl Hardy for all of his support and advice regarding my first book.

There are also other HUGE developments underway that I can't even speak on as of yet and I'm SO excited about them.

I wanna thank you all for your thoughts and prayers and encouragement and emails and MySpace and Facebook messages. I get them all I read them all and they encourage me sooooooo much, more than you probably realize. ((MUAH))

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Playing In The Background...
"Foolin'"
by Christina Milian
from the album "So Amazin"
and
"So What"
by Pink
from the album "Funhouse"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 07:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | 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)

The other night I had some of the best sex of my life. His body was so tight, the way his smooth chocolate skin stretched across his muscles. His lips were some of the softest I'd ever felt, I could kiss him all day. It felt so warm and soft and juicy inside him, the way he moaned and called me "Daddy" and took the dick so well and moved in all the right ways. His legs wrapped around me with me all the way inside of him, holding him, squeezing him, kissing him passionately as sweat lubricated our bodies, he felt like it was made just for me. A few times out of full unadulterated passion that he told me that he loved me. It wasn't just sex, we made love. It was perfect... Well, except for the fact that we'd just met and one of the main reasons why he called me "Daddy" was because I never got around to telling him my name and on top of that he's not my type and we'd never actually work outside the bedroom. Have you ever found yourself having the right sex with the wrong person?

It's crazy. I mean yeah, so, I'm gay. I'm gay and I'm a full top and most of my friends are bottoms. So yes, obviously a good portion of my friendships are birthed from failed relationships or something sexual in nature. And in my life, this life, the gay life I value my friendships more than anything and I try my best not to cross that line and put our friendship in jeopardy. Even so, every so often I may have a friend who develops more than friendly feelings for me. Most would ask why I wouldn't just get with one of my friends, they're already someone who I know and get along with, and can fulfill my emotional, intellectual and social needs but see here's the thing, yes one of my friends could be the right person, but the sex is or would be wrong. Because either, I'm not attracted to the friend that way or we may have had involvement before that didn't work out or develop into anything partly because the sex wasn't right then. Have you ever found yourself having the wrong sex with the right person?

I can think of people that I can get with today who I can really be happy with. We can hang out and chill and I know I'd get all the love and support I need and they would be a good boyfriend. somebody who I can build something with but I'm not physically attracted to them. What's a nigga to do? I don't wanna play with someone's emotions and string them along because as good as all the non-physical aspects of a relationship can be I know I need sex. Sex is important to me and if I'm not being fulfilled I know I'm gonna stray. But then again I can have the hottest sex in the world with someone else and then that's all though, we don't get along outside the bedroom, our dreams and goals and outlook on life don't align. What gives? Where is the balance? Where is they guy who has it all or at least most of it? I don't wanna settle, but I don't wanna be old and alone. I know I'm only 25, but I think about this kinda stuff because this is how it starts. You say, oh I'm only 25 I don't have to worry about that, then you're 30, 35, 40, 45 and before you know it you're that 50 year old guy at the club that all the 25 year olds make fun of, or even worse that 50 year old guy on BGC or A4A that all the 25 year olds make fun of. Perish the thought.

What y'all think? Am I trippin?

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Playing In The Background...
"Till The End Of The World"
by Michelle Williams
from the album "Unexpected"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

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When I started this blog I promised that I would always keep it real, even when it hurt, even when it's embarrassing, even when it doesn't show me in the best light. Because at the end of the day it is my imperfections and humanity that have endeared me to you all. Hopefully I'm right.

-Adam
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It's quite ironic that on Labor Day I must make this announcement but, I quit. What am I quitting you ask? Well I'm definitely not quitting the blog, so don't worry about that. This blog is one of the most beautifully rewarding and consistent things of my life. If I could turn my blog into a person and marry it I would. My blog is my baby and although I've neglected him at times, not writing as much as I should I will never give him up. I'm quitting some other things in my life that have taken me off course as of late. Things that have taken my mind away from what's really important.

I'm depressed, more yesterday than today. I've been rolling around, sweating in my boxer briefs, alone and lonely in my hot ass studio apartment for the past 36 hours. I'm also sick, I've caught one of my annual end-of-summer-but-everyone-is-still-pumping-the-AC-like-it's-90-degrees-outside-colds. That's why my AC isn't on and I've decided to sweat this thing out. It's working.

Oh Jesus, where do I start. Well, the party that I and my partners had been planning. The one we've poured our everything into, the one that I've been plugging to the point of annoyance, you know the whole "No Shade" thing, well, it basically failed. To say that no one came would be over dramatic but it certainly was much less successful than we expected it to be. In some ways I used my wildly successful 25th birthday party as a meter of success to compare this party to. Although I didn't expect it to do as well, especially since that party was free I also didn't expect it to as badly as it did and for good reason. When I was doubtful about it so many people told me that they'd come, they'd definitely support, that it was a great idea. My partners each got the same response. These sort of prompts are what encouraged us to even endeavor in a monthly party in the first place. The last few days before last Friday night, I'd all but stopped worrying to the point of utter and complete confidence. Everything's gonna be okay, we've been promoting like crazy, going out on a marathon of club let outs, passing out flyers and talking to people every day for the past eight days, we have an email list of 1,800+ people, having people randomly hit me up online on BGC and A4A to inquire about the party and to say that they'd definitely be there. I thought 'Oh ok, we got this in the bag'.

The night of the party I looked great in my all white. It was the Friday before Labor Day so I decided to wear all of my white before I couldn't wear it anymore. I was so excited. It was only 11pm and the party had just started. Of course no one was there and why would they be. The NYC kids don't party until like 1-130a, I don't normally get out until 2-230a myself. At around 1130p I took a quick cab trip with some friends up to the Village (Greenwich Village), leaving the others behind to get rid of the last of the flyers we had left. I ran into some people I knew in the Village who told me that they'd definitely be at the party a little later, as most people do. They chill in the Village early and go out to party later. We got back around 1230p and I expected to hear good news, that it'd filled up a little and that there was at least a line. Alas no. People actually came in, saw the emptiness and left. After 1a came along and there was no significant change in the crowd or the lack thereof I knew in my heart that it was a wrap but I tried to remain hopeful and keep on what Jill Scott would call "the strong face" for the guests we already had. No need for them to see me crack under the pressure, no need for me to be any less charming and warm to them due to what I was going through. So I slipped up to the VIP section and sipped on some Moet from the bottle my friend bought, in an attempt to calm my nerves. The next day another friend told me that me and my partners attempts to remain cool in spite of what was going on we're pretty thinly veiled. It wasn't hard at all to tell that we were folding under the pressure and cracking at the seams. I was so embarrassed that I could have dropped dead right then. It even crossed my mind to just run away, to sneak out the front door and never come back, but I could never leave my friends that way. It was unbelievable. We were all so shocked. We didn't expect this and for good reason. So many of our friends, acquaintances and people we just flat out didn't know said they'd be there and they weren't, what happened? Even one of the people I ran into in the Village never showed up. I found out later that some of those people who came by texted their friends, who texted their friends, who texted their friends and from then on it was a wrap.

At the end of the night, due to the grace and tender mercy of our faithful God who I'd been whispering prayers to all night, we didn't lose much money and basically broke even. Thank you Jesus. When I left Mocca Lounge that night, alone in the drenching rain, in all white with no umbrella, I stood under a store awning frozen in my own confusion, derision and discontent wanting to melt away down the storm drain along with the rain, wondering what happened, how I got here and what I was gonna do next. It was 4am and there I was stuck outside, all dressed up with no place to go, wanting to go home but paralyzed by the rain. Just then I thought 'Fuck it' and ran through the rain to my train station which was a block away. On the ride all the way back up to Harlem I slept in an effort to stop my mind that was racing at a million miles an hour, turning round and round like a centrifuge. It also didn't help that I was sick, my throat sore and my head aching. I just wanted to go to bed... forever. I rose from the train station at my stop to discover that the rain had gotten even worse, to deluge, monsoon-like proportions, paralyzing me once again. Standing outside again for another half hour in my all white, wanting to run to the refuge of my bed more than life itself at that point, I felt foolish once again. I didn't want to be seen. I just wanted to lock myself in the house and get away from it all. Lord why can't I just get home.

The next day I woke up to a Blackberry flooded with emails and text messages saying sorry for not being able to make it to your party. Too little, too motherfuckin; late y'all. The damage was already done. What's so fucked up is how a few hours before the party a skirmish between me and one of my partners could have led to us canceling the party. God, why didn't we just cancel the party? All that day I tried to figure out how to spin this, what PR trick could I use to remedy this situation, to turn this shit to shine. I know the word had obviously gotten out and that the first thing people are gonna do is look to the blog just to see what I'm gonna say. Then once again I thought 'Fuck it' I'm gonna handle this like I been handling everything else. This blog was built on honesty so I figured that if people are gonna hear it then they'd hear it from me. The craziest thing about it all was that we did everything right. We couldn't even take solace in the notion that we did something wrong and that there was something to correct for next time. No there wasn't, people just didn't show up for whatever reason.

Upon further thought and reflection that day I decided that party promotion was way too risky a business to continue to invest my money and time into. As much as I like people and getting to know people I'm still very much a loner as most truly creative people are. All of my writing and designing I do in solitude. I don't trust or depend on people very easily. I will stay in the crib by myself, broke as a joke before I ask anyone for anything. I'm a Leo and I'm extremely proud and i like feeling secure. I don't handle embarrassment or vulnerability well. I should have known that any endeavor that was so volatile and involved so much dependence on other people's involvement and attendance was not for me. Especially since my blog, my business and my book have suffered as a result of it. While there's nothing wrong with planning or throwing parties I was in it for all the wrong reasons.

"My (ex)boyfriend and I were talking the other day and we were just reviewing all of the things that have been happening to me lately, increased readership of the blog, my web design business starting to become more popular, and many other developments that I'm not even at liberty to discuss yet. He ended things quite soberly with the phrase "...don't get caught up, baby".

...It seems like everybody nowadays is doing whatever they can to attain some type of plastic, pseudo-celebrity status., in New York especially. NYC is the home or should I say breeding ground of the black, gay, mini-celebrity.

Being that my (ex) boyfriend and I are both Leos it is certainly within our nature to believe our own press. We also love attention. But I mean, who doesn't? Even the most laid back of people want attention from somebody, right?"
-Adam Benjamin Irby (me)
from my blog post "If I Ever Become An Attention Whore... Slap Me... Please..."
written June 14th, 2007

Being a black gay socialite went against everything I believed in coming into all of this. More embarrassing than the scant turnout and the backlash that comes with having a party fail is knowing that I went against my word. Not just shit I said in passing but what I had written in this blog (in this particular blog post) almost fourteen months ago and that I'd changed. Pseudo-notoriety had changed me. The fucked up thing about notoriety in terms of what I do is that it inhibited me from telling stories the way I once did. Most of you who had been reading my stuff for an extended period of time started reading it because it was a breath of fresh air to hear from someone being real and saying what he truly felt no matter what, these are the things you all have said to me. But the more notable you become the more you have to be careful not to offend anyone. Although I tried my best to always remain modest, humble, and just plain nice I began to believe my own press. I got caught up. So just in case you didn't get it. The party's over, at least for me anyway.

Then there's the other thing that's been plaguing me, Pubby. I'm just as tired of typing that name as you are of reading it at this point. I have not been fully honest about the Pubby situation. It's not that I lied. I'm not a liar, I'm just a big omitter. So yes we broke up, we broke up but we'd still see each other from time to time. Each time we saw each other it would feel so good and so right to me that it would incite feelings of reconciliation in me although he was already with someone else. His sweet utterances of "I love you." "I miss you." "You know you're still my baby." "You know it's still yours baby." would deceive me every time. He'd spend time with me and when he'd walk out of my door he wouldn't take his feelings for me with him, leaving my home as if nothing had happened while I was left to carry the emotional burden of unrequited love. How can you say that you love me and that you miss me when were alone no one's around yet you carry on a relationship in public with someone else? How can you question me and who I'm dating and get downright jealous knowing that you broke it off with me and that you have a man? Why do you still even bother with me? I tried to sever ties with him so many times, I really did. But he just wouldn't leave me alone. It seemed like every time I got strong enough to walk away for good he'd smell it and then he'd call, or he'd text, or he'd come to see me and we'd be back in the vicious cycle one again, carrying on our illicit affair. And we'd lurk around in secret as I foolishly lived as the side piece. He was using me like a married man uses a mistress, as an escape, as a respite from the problems of his relationship. Feeding me empty promises of someday were gonna be together, someday I'm gonna leave my wife , in this case his boyfriend, for me. When I knew all too well that like a mistress I was just being used and strung along. Even if it weren't done maliciously it still doesn't erase the fact that it was being done.

Yesterday, in my depression I finally had enough. It was time to take a desperate measure. My mind went back to the last time I'd felt that bad, back in 2006 when I changed my phone number and just started all over again with a clean slate. And Lord knows I love my phone number but it was time for change. Unfortunately due to the fact that I had this epiphany last night at 3a and that today is Labor Day I can't change my number until tomorrow. Fuck! Don't you hate it when you get inspired and wanna make a major life change but you can't do it right away cuzza something stupid like a store being closed or something? Ugh! That shit is so annoying!

A good friend of mine asked me last night what having a new phone number would really do to stop my communication with Pubby and other unhealthy people and relationships that I need to cut off. Good question, friend. What funny about me is this. I know that I won't call Pubby or give him my new phone number because those are pre-meditated actions that take thought. Though my heart is weak I still have a very logical mind and my mind won't let me go. Our most recent rekindlings were not as a result of me calling him because I know better than that. What if I called and he didn't answer as he had done many times before? I wouldn't just blatantly play myself like that. I need a little bit of coaxing to be played. Things always restarted with him calling me. Seeing his name flash across my phone meant that he cared about me, that he was concerned about me, that he wanted to talk to me, that there was hope for us and it brought all the old feelings back. As a result I always picked up. I was so curious to hear what he had to say. Would this be the call where he says that he's seen the light and that he's dumped what's his name and wants to finally be with me, the right way. My fragile heart couldn't risk missing such a call. In my mind I know that it's easier not to make a call than it is not to answer a call and because my heart has proven time and time again to be too weak to resist answering his calls I now have to put a physical, tangible barrier between our communication for my own good, that's why first thing in the morning I'm changing my phone number and starting over.

At this point I'm desperate. I must get over him by any means necessary, whatever that takes. No matter what anyone thinks. I even wrote a blog post about the first time I ever did this called "Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures... ". The great thing about writing a blog is that I can look back on my past experiences and learn from them and also be chastised and held accountable by them. Who knew that I'd have to take such a desperate measure once again, but I'm not perfect and these I must count again as lessons learned. So I quit. As a result I feel much better and am better equipped for the journey ahead.

Happy Labor Day and whatever you're laboring over today, make sure it's worth it.

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Playing In The Background...
"Moratorium"
by Alanis Morisette
from the album "Flavors Of Entanglement"
and
"Leave Me Alone"
by Syleena Johnson
from the album "Chapter 3: The Flesh"
and
"Caught Up"
by Joy Denalane
from the album "Born & Raised"
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PS: Shout outs and thanks to all who came out especially ShaneBlu and my new friends from Pennsauken, NJ and all of my special guests, you know who you are. Even though I won't personally be doing the "No Shade" party any longer I will always be in full support of it and my partners.

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 04:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

I wrote this blog post not to long ago about how it seems that lately all the guys that rejected me and played me seemed to all be crawling back all of a sudden. Well, like everything else in life this theory works both ways.

I met this guy online two years ago around Christmastime, let's call him Thomas. He was fine as hell, my type too, petite, pretty face, slim body and a phat ass. He even let me beat on the first date (which unlike a lot of guys is something I like and makes me want the dude more, especially if I'm into him). Things seemed to be perfect, until he told me that he was only in New York for a few weeks and was going back to school. I tried to squeeze in as much time as I could with him while he was here but he kept breaking dates. I HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE THAT! I liked him but at that point I became disinterested and as the time loomed for him to go back to school and I knew much better than to try to even attempt a long distance relationship even though that seemed like what he wanted to do. So like a true faggot I just stopped calling him and I stopped answering his many phone calls.

That next summer, school was out again and I'd see him around the neighborhood. He was still fine as hell and as much as I wanted to talk to him I avoided him like the plague. Whenever I saw him coming toward me I'd look away or if I saw him walking in front of me I'd slow my pace down as not to pass him. After seeing him again I felt really foolish about what I'd done, but I guess not foolish enough to stop being a pussy and go up to him to rectify things. I was in a relationship at that time so it wasn't even about trying to get back with him, but I knew in my heart of hearts that I needed to apologize, especially since I hate it so much when dudes do that kinda shit to me. The better part of me knew that that was the right thing to do but I let the worst part of me rationalize my way out of it. I mean like, what if he would he would have gotten mad or even worse didn't even remember me anymore? So I remained a coward all that summer.

Fast forward to a few months ago. I saw him at an out-of-town even I attended with friends. It was one of those meetings where you're walking, talking looking in one direction and your friend says "Hey, Adam this is so-and-so..." and without having time to brace yourself, you look over and there he is, was, Thomas. Awkward pause, detached half hug, awkward salutations exchanged and then you move on. During the course of that day and due to the fact that we were trapped at the same event we exchanged a few more words. I braced myself for the question of "Adam, why did you stop calling me?" as though it were the French Revolution and I was waiting for the ax to fall. My fear wasn't so much the question, but that I, the blogger, the writer, the person who always has something to say would have absolutely nothing to say to answer this question. It was stupid, there was no reason for me to just up and stop calling him the way I did. I could have just been a man and told him how I felt. And now he looks good, really good and he's probably not even at that school anymore and maybe if I'd played my cards right we could have rekindled something. I was horny as hell that weekend too and I surely wouldn't have minded him kindling my log.

Fast forward to Sunday, June 29th, 2008, NYC Pride. I ran into Thomas on the corner of West 4th Street & 6th Avenue right by Washington Mutual Bank. Thomas was on his phone. I scribbled my phone number on one of my birthday flyers we were passing out that night and motioned for him to call me as I continued up the street. 'Dammit! I shoulda got his number!' I thought as I walked away. A part of me wanted to go back down the block but then I would have looked real stupid and thirsty so I went on.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago. One night as I was on my way downtown to do some promotion at a club for my birthday party I ran into Thomas on the subway platform. We exchanged salutations and a few moments of small talk as the train approached the station. Unfortunately, we'd only be riding this train together one stop so I didn't really see it befitting to give my sorrowful apology right then. Before he got off the train I got his number but it didn't mean too much because he had just lost his phone. Damn.

That next week I was walking up the street approaching a club where I was going to do some more promotion that night when right outside I run into Thomas. He was talking on a cell phone which I later found out wasn't his, he was just borrowing it for the evening. The conversation seemed serious, like a family matter or something. He acknowledged my presence as he stood there talking on the phone in one ear and his finger in another. So I walked away from him, going to converse with friends. A few minutes later I looked over in his direction and he was gone.

Later that night inside the club. I looked over to the bar at one of the go-go boys. He had a slim, petite, bangin' ass body covered by only on a white jock strap that hugged his ass just right. I wouldn't usually be into jock straps as they remind me of bad 70's black and white porno movies but it worked for him. I was getting hypnotized as he shook, grinded, and writhed to the music. The go-go boy turned around and I saw that it was Thomas. Oh shit. I didn't see him again for the rest of the night.

To be continued...

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Playing In The Background...
"If I Could"
by Dru Hill
from the album "Dru World Order"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

Obviously, we all know that as the song says "breakin' up is hard to do" but as a person who's no stranger to bad breakups I've found that music is definitely something that has kept me together through the toughest of relationship times. More experienced readers of the blog will notice that many of these breakup songs listed below have been put as "Playing In The Background..." to a lot of my breakup related blog posts. This particular post though was inspired by my conversations with two friends over the past week about relationship woes, breaking up, and finally getting over it, those conversations quickly turned toward what music they were listening to. You will see that all the songs I've listed are sung by straight women. Like straight women, as a homo I deal with men and all of their bullshit as well so we can definitely relate.

Below I have compiled my top 25 breakup songs, all of which have helped me a time or two, or eighteen. These songs have been the soundtrack of many a lonely sad night in my life. The songs listed here are fairly new, most released within the past ten years or so. I've included all of their info, name of the song, artist, and album so you can go buy (or download) these songs and listen to them for yourself.

This list changes all the time as new songs come out and as new breakups happen. I'm sure that there will be selections that you will know and relate to on the list, others you may not agree with and may want to add to or subtract from the list. Just like every person, every breakup is different so please feel free to leave your breakup music suggestions in the comments section by clicking on the "comments" link at the end of this blog post.

Here we go:

#25
"I Ain't Trippin'"
by Cherish
from the album "The Truth"
The song's message:
Cherish sees their man with another girl and they're cool with it because their all broken up and over it. It's all good homie.
Sample lyric:
"I ain't even trippin (trippin)/And I ain't even mad/Cause me and you been over which means that I been over you..."
My comments:
I think every breakup should start with an uptempo number.

#24
"Losing U"
by Amerie
from the album "Because I Love It"
The song's message:
Amerie's ex is triflin' and he's just no good. She's over it and even though he wants to come back she won't let him because she realizes that him being out of her life is the best thing for her.
Sample lyric:
"Na na na/Na na na/Na na na/Na na na/Losing you was so easy to do/Na na na/Na na na/Na na na/Na na na/Losing you was the best thing to happen to me..."
My comments:
Even if your ex totally dumped you, isn't begging to come back and probably isn't even thinking about your ass the song is still nice to sing along to.

#23
"A Better Man"
by Toni Braxton
from the album "More Than A Woman"
The song's message:
Like Amerie's ex, Toni's ex is triflin' as well and she realizes that after all of his mistreatment that she has to let him go because there simply has got to be a better man for her.
Sample lyric:
"...I've got to get used to not having you around/God gave me the strength/And the courage I need/To move forward with my life/I have to let it be/But it's OK/I Understand/You've got to leave/I won't cry no more/Baby what for?/You don't shed a tear for me..."
My comments:
AMEN Toni AMEN! There just simply has to be a better man for you!

#22
"Your Gonna Miss"
by Ashanti
from the album "The Declaration"
The song's message:
Ashanti is upset over the breakup from her ex and even though there is a part of her that wants him back she realizes that she needs to move on but she also knows that he's gonna miss her anyway.
Sample Lyrics:
"It's killin' me to think that you don't want it no more/I shoulda learned my lesson when you f*cked before/You said some things/I said some things/Seems like this thing is over/Cuz you ain't called since you been gone/But I ain't gonna stress about it anymore/And I ain't gonna cry another night alone..."
"I can't help but think that when your love is gone/Although I find it hard to keep myself from holding on/And when I try to justify what you did wrong/It's like I'm constantly reminded that I can't move on..."
My comments:
This song MUST ALWAYS be listened to with the next song on the list.

#21
"So Over You"
by Ashanti
from the album "The Declaration"
The song's message:
Ashanti went through a hard breakup with her ex man after which she was trippin' for minute, home crying and shit, but now she's over it.
Sample lyrics:
"Said I'm finished with it/Ain't no more hurtin' over here/I done lost my cool for just a minute/But I'm back and I'm doin my thing again..."
"I've had enough/Boy I swear this time I'm done/You can pack up all your stuff/Frankly I don't give a f*ck/I'm so over you..."
"I got my swagga back again/And no, I'm not tryna be your friend/And no, ain't no hittin' this again..."
My comments:
Listen to this song over and over again until you believe it!

#20
"Should Have Known"
by Robyn
from the album "Robyn"
The songs message:
Robyn is mad at herself because her ex played her and she knew that he was no good from the start.
Sample lyrics:
"Should have seen it comin'/I shoulda f*ckin' known/How could I let you play me?/I don't even know..."
"...And then you blamed it all on me/I should have known that's what liars always try to do/It wasn't me it was you/You're the fool..."
My comments:
Did me and Robyn date the same guy?

#19
"Be Ok" feat. Will.i.am
by Chrisette Michele
from the album "I Am"
The song's message:
Chrisette decided to be okay even though her and her ex broke it off and he's with someone else.
Sample lyric:
"I'ma take my Lexus to the mall/Get a little black dress just because/Me and my boo just broke it off/I'ma be fly although he's gone..."
My comments:
I'ma take the bus to 125th street and buy a little navy blue Yankee fitted. Whichever mode of transport you take me, you and and Chrisette are gonna be ok.

#18
"Fool 4 You"
by Cherish
from the album "Unappreciated"
The song's message:
Cherish's man has messed up one too many times, cheating on them with all kids of women, buying all kinds of jewelry and shit. They're over it and decided to never be fools no more.
Sample lyric:
"...Cause I ain't no fool for you no more/Won't be no fool for you no more/I ain't no fool for you no more/I ain't no fool for you no more...."
My comments:
Just close your eyes and let this classical sounding piece wash over you. I've put this one on repeat MANY times. Even if he didn't cheat we've all been fools for someone in some way. Trust me if you've ever been a fool in any way you can relate.

#17
"No Fool No More"
by EnVogue
from the album "Best Of EnVogue"
The song's message:
After all of the tears and the pain EnVogue finally realizes that things need to change. They "see through his lies" and are "finally wise" and are really leaving this time.
Sample lyrics:
"No room for sad regrets/Cause the past is done and gone/And I've learned that it's time that makes you wise/And truth that makes you strong..."
"...Gonna pull my heart together/Gonna leave the past behind/Gonna get to somethin' better/Put you out of my mind/I'm gonna be strong/I'm gonna be fine/I just want you to know/That I'm not gonna be no fool no more/No fool no more/Not like before/Not the way it used to be/No fool no more..."
My comments:
I've cried many a tear to this one. one of my favorite EnVogue songs ever.

#16
"Gotta Get My Heart Back"
by Keyshia Cole
from the album "Just Like You"
The song's message:
Keyshia realizes that she has fallen way to hard for a guy that obviously doesn't feel for her the same way and has to get her heart back to the way it was before she fell for this guy
Sample lyric:
"I know where I/Went wrong when I/Loved you more then I loved myself/I would have done anything for you/Aye, aye, aye, aye/And I learned when I/Realized you didn't love/Me the way that I loved you but now I know./It's hurts inside..."
My comments:
Ever loved someone way more than they loved you and finally realized that you're crazy and that something must be done? This is the song for you.

#15
"Melt My Heart To Stone"
by Adele
from the album "19"
The song's message:
Adele is dealing with this guy who is playing games with her emotions, stringing her along and hurting her feelings. At the end of it all she realizes that she's the only one in love. Damn.
Sample lyric:
"As you tear your way right through me/I forgive you once again/Without me knowing/You've burnt my heart to stone/And I hear your words/That I made up/You say my name/Like there could be an us/I best tidy up my head/I'm the only one in love/I'm the only one in love..."
My comments:
This acoustic ditty is the shortest and the saddest of the list. You ARE NOT to listen to this song under the influence of alcohol or drugs and don't put it on repeat more than three times. I wouldn't want you to do anything stupid.

#14
"Stepping Stone"
by Duffy
from the album "Rockferry"
The song's message:
Duffy tells her ex that she will never be his "stepping stone", his part time lover. That he can't pick her up and put her down anymore.
Sample lyric:
"You got your kicks/You get your kicks from playing me/And the less you give the more I want so foolishly..."
My comments:
You breaking up with the guy that keeps picking you up and putting you down when he feels like it? This is the song for you.

#13
"No Sittin' By The Phone"
by Vivian Green
from the album "A Love Story"
The song's message:
My girl Viv realizes that her ex is gone and that his ass ain't coming back. She also realizes that he was no good anyway and that it's for the best and decides to move on with her life.
Sample lyric:
"We used to sit over there/That was your favorite chair/But now I sit here alone/No use crying bout it/I'll have to do without it/And no I won't sit by the phone/It's not like you did me right/I was just comfortable and used to you/Now I see, I must first love me/And maybe Mr. Right will come strolling along..."
My comments:
Lyrically, one of the best songs on here. This jazzy number captures the essence of the breaking up and moving on process.

#12
"If"
by Destiny's Child
from the album "Destiny Fulfilled"
The song's message:
The girls realize that their man is no good and they had to go, he was "playing around with them raggedy heifers" and all and they weren't having it. Even though they are alone now they are comforted by the fact that they were true and gave their all when they were in the relationship and that he's gonna miss them.
Sample lyric:
"If you don't know/Now you know you're gonna miss/My love/And I ain't stressing 'bout a doggone thang/Cause I was true when I gave you/My love/If you search you will never find another love like/My love/You’re gonna miss me/I ain’t got time while you sit around and play with my/My love..."
My comments:
You know you're much better than that ragged heifer he's playing with nowadays anyway! Fuck him!

#11
"Be Mine!"
by Robyn
from the album "Robyn"
The song's message:
Robyn was in love with a guy who never really was truly hers and he never will be hers. She's all in love with him and he keeps telling her 'Robyn, girl I don't want you', but she still longs for him. After a while she finally realizes that it just ain't gonna happen.
Sample Lyrics:
"For the first time, there's no mercy in your eyes/And the cold wind is hitting my face and you're gone/And you're walking away/And I am helpless sometimes/Wishing's just no good/Cause you don't see me like I wish you would/Cause you never were, and you never will be mine/No, you never were, and you never will be mine..."
My comments:
On the album this song is pretty upbeat, so much so that you may miss the sadness of the lyrics. If you want something a little better to cry to search the internet for the live, slower, sadder AOL Sessions version of this song it's a rival to #15.

Stay tuned for the top 10...

What song do you predict will be number 1?

What's your number 1?

Let me know in the "comments" section below this post.

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Playing In The Background...
"Breaking Up Is Hard To Do"
by Neil Sedaka
from the album "Neil Sedaka, The Definitive Collection"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 10:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (8) | 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.

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

"Do, Do you got a first aid kit handy? Do, Do you know how to patch up a wound...

Damaged, damaged
Damaged, damaged
I thought that I should let you know
That my heart is
Damaged, damaged
So Damaged
And you can blame the one before
So how you gonna fix it, fix it, fix it...

Tell me are you up for the challenge
Cause my heart is damaged..."
 -Danity Kane
  from the song "Damaged"

Being single again has really given me some time to think about who I am and why I am the way I am in relationships and why all of my relationships have failed. The thing is, well, I'm an extremely nice person. Not nice to others to the detriment of myself, so much, at least not consciously, but yeah, I'm really nice. I was taught growing up that 'it's nice to be nice".

I grew up with a father who was far from perfect, but a damn good provider for his family. He made sure that we were all taken care of, me, my mother and my siblings, before even thinking about thinking about himself. I remember him giving my mother, a stay at home mom, his whole paycheck every pay period so she could pay all the bills and manage the house while he worked. The only time we'd really set to do something special for him, something tangible, was Father's Day or his birthday. Even then he'd get the same old thing every year, a shirt and a tie or something. But when he received that shirt and tie from us he treated it like it was pure gold, he loved and cherished it and would tell anyone he met who'd listen long enough about what we'd gotten him. More important to him than the yearly trinkets he'd receive from us, my father rejoiced in the fact that we were happy. It made him happy to see us happy. To see his family with the best filled him with pride as a provider, as a father, as a man. That happiness is what pulled him through those days working as hard as he did for forty years before he retired. While I didn't appreciate it nearly as much as a should have as a child, being a man now, typing this paragraph I'm actually holding back tears from my eyes thinking of all his sacrificed for us and never thought anything of it and never wanted any undue praise or fanfare for it. While it seems like such a extraordinary feat in our world of deadbeat dads, downlow brothas, and talk show paternity tests, my dad simply did what a real man is supposed to do.

Growing up, everyone said I looked so much and acted so much like my mother, with her dry, church lady, sanctified sarcasm and fierce one-liners. My mother is the only person I know that can cuss you out without using one cuss word. She can read you in the name of Jesus, say a prayer over you, tip her Sunday-go-to-meeting hat and send you on your way. I thought that a lot of these characteristics carried over into my being gay. But as I get older I'm realizing now with pride that I'm becoming more and more like my father everyday.

Unfortunately, attributes like honor, faithfulness (outside of sexual activity, yes faithful does have more than one meaning), responsibility and just plain being nice aren't much appreciated in the gay community. Our endless pursuit of youth, parties, designer labels, and whatever's or whoever's considered new and fabulous has left such time-honored virtues by the wayside. In my relationships I am much like my dad, minus the fiscal obligations as I've never been married, have no kids and am not taking care of no grown-ass man (Get a job nigga! Oh wow, that was personal, dedicated to all my deadbeat exes, the ones I dated in '05-'06). That fiscal and provider responsibly that my father had to his wife and kids as a straight man translates into emotional responsibility for me as a gay man as I give my all to whoever I'm with and like my dad it makes me happy to see them happy, to put a smile on their face. Like my dad, that's what's most important to me, not necessarily having things for myself. I don't mind sharing my wealth (not necessarily financial wealth) with someone. Unlike most gays I know, I don't like clubs and I was never into labels, now I'm more into saving money than anything else. In a partner I want someone that I can chill and build something with, and give to emotionally, spiritually, physically and financially and have it given back or at the very least appreciated. The more superficial things just don't matter so much to me. Sometimes I feel like yes, of course, I'm obviously gay, but so not gay all at the same time.

As I sat and talked to Pubby last week, he finally acknowledged how much of myself I gave to him when we were together. I gave him, it, us, my all. I loved him with every cell in my body, ever fiber of my being. I broke my back to make that shit work, doing all I possibly could, but I was not getting the love back. Then he said to me that he just wasn't ready for that again yet and that that's why he was so neglectful as far as I was concerned and that he had just come out of something when we first met. etc,. etc,. etc... Then I just kinda tuned out. As much as this was a revelation for him it wasn't for me. I'd heard this all before. Below is the amended version of how my relationships work. I also recommend that you check out the blog post that fully details how my relationships work. Anyway:

I find someone.

I get with them.

I fall for them.

I give my everything.

Everything seems okay.

They start neglecting me.

It drives me crazy.

It hurts my feelings.

I break it off with them.

They don't care because I guess they weren't so into me in the first place.

We have the post break-up closure conversation in which they tell me that they just weren't ready for what I was looking for and that they've just gotten out of something, long term with someone else and there's still feelings and baggage there, yadda, yadda, yadda, etc., etc., etc... I've had this conversation so many times I could finish their sentences at this point. So what is it about me that draws these people to me? I know I sure as hell didn't go out looking for this stream of heartbreak and disappointment that is my romantic life. I'm not trying to be the proverbial "Captain Save-A-Ho" scouting for wounded souls to gentrify into the perfect companion. And who are these people that leave them so heartbroken? They always seems to have given their everything to these deadbeats in long term relationships and got fucked over so bad that there's nothing left for me. Why do I always have to be the rebound dude, the one who has to carry the leftover baggage from the last dude until my arms get tired and I end up dropping the shit? How can I get down with being first? Is this why I've never been in a long term relationship, because I'm always receiving damaged goods? Is it because I'm a nice guy? Is nobody gonna give me love unless I fuck them over too? 'Cuz the nigga that fucks them over, they all go running back to them, leaving me standing there with my open and pure heart, looking like an ass every time. This shit is crazy. When a nigga is obviously fucking me over I leave his ass alone. Isn't that what you're supposed to do when you're getting mistreated? If you find a good man and you know he's a good man, doing all he can for the relationship, trying to make you happy, why would you leave that or neglect that for someone who makes you unhappy. I don't get it.

I mean, dammit Danity Kane! How am I gonna "fix it, fix it, fix it" if they keep going back to the same dude that messed them up in the first place? Maybe I'm just not "up for the challenge" anymore? I'm throwing my "first aid kit" away. I'm tired of playing doctor, I'm closing the practice. All I want is a fair fuckin' shake. I come in fresh and healed up, all my past let go, you come in fresh and healed up, all your past let go and we just do this.

Like I said, unfortunately my values system just doesn't seem to fit in with gay life. In the words of Lil' Kim "Sometimes I feel like I'm from another fuckin' world..." and with my upbringing, way of thinking and values system in comparison to most gay men I know, I guess I am.

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Playing In The Background...
"Damaged"
by Danity Kane
from the album "Welcome To The Dollhouse"
and
"Custom Made (Give It To You)"
by Lil' Kim
from the album "Notorious K.I.M."
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 11:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

==========
Sorry for this post being so short but I had to sneak it in between the sixty million things I have to do today.
==========

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Play this as you read:
"Should Have Known"
by Robyn

==========

I saw the show "Cat On a Hot Tin Roof" on Broadway Wednesday night. I won't give the story away for those who are unfamiliar but seeing the pain that Anika Noni Rose's and Phylicia Rashad's character's were in, loving men who did not love them back, really resonated with me. They lived their lives in a constant state of insecurity and uncomfort, like cats on hot tin roofs. All throughout the play I felt as though they were speaking right to me and I knew what had to be done.

So, yup, it's over. I broke up with Pubby again for the very last time this morning. I've just come to finally realize that no matter how much I did, no matter how much I gave that he's never gonna change. It wasn't an easy decision to make but it as the best one for me. And unlike the previous times I broke with him I don't have anything bad to say about him, because this time it's not about him and how he did me wrong, it's about me and how I've decided to finally do me right. It's not even his fault. I'm the only one with the power to have allowed myself to get that way so it was up to me to free myself. Right now I'm really pissed with myself for repeatedly being so stupid. In the words of Robyn, I shoulda seen this coming, "I shoulda fuckin' known."

There's a lot more I could and probably should have said but that's not freedom. You don't see prisoners released from jail going back and trying to settle scores with the warden and their fellow inmates, they're too busy being free for that. In the words of Beyonce "...what was misunderstood, it's all good, it's all good." There truly is no feeling like being free, when your mind is truly made up and your heart is truly in the right place. No hard feelings, just better thinking from now on.

So if you wanna leave a comment, leave a comment just don't send me no condolences and shit, because I'm okay. And whatever's not okay will all be okay in a little bit of time.

As far as the book is concerned, y'all know I'm currently writing my first book. I had dinner yesterday with James Earl Hardy (author of the black gay fiction classic "B-Boy Blues"). I picked his brain about how to get started as far as the publishing end of the whole book thing is concerned. He's a really cool guy and I learned a lot from him. I'm really honored that he would even take the time to dine with little ol' me, especially with his book being turned into a movie and all now. Thanks James.

Just landed on my own two feet,
Shoulda fuckin' known,
-Adam

==========
Playing In the Background...
"Free"
by Destiny's Child
from the album "Destiny Fulfilled"
and
"Better In Time"
by Leona Lewis
from the album "Spirit"
and
"Should Have Known"
by Robyn
from the album "Robyn"
and
"Be Mine!"
by Robyn
from the album "Robyn"
and
"Mad"
by Vivian Green
from the album "Vivian"
and
"I'm Done"
by Tweet
from the album "It's Me Again"
and
"Single Again"
by Trina
from the album "Still Da Baddest"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 09:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (0)

"Step by step. Day by day.
A fresh start over. A different hand to play.
The deeper we fall, the stronger we stay
And we'll be better the second time around..."
-from the "Step By Step" TV show theme song

Everything's going great between me and Pubby, we're spending a lot of time together and every day is beautiful. We've talked things out, we've let go of the past and we're concentrating on our future and just plain having a good time. I couldn't ask for anything more. We're making it better the fourth time around, I think this is the fourth time, or is it the third.

Last week Pubby called me, asking me how I felt about sharing joint custody of a dog, having it live between his house and mine, like our child. As you know I have a cat, Keisha, who I've had for about eight years now, but owning a cat as opposed to owning a dog is a horse of another color. My viewpoint on dogs was basically that of the standard cat person. Generally, cat people think dogs are loud, stupid, needy, and have no personality or mind of their own, panting about, eating their own vomit like idiots. As he talked to me, filled with so much passion and excitement at the prospect of getting this dog all I could think about is how much responsibility a dog is. Cats are generally independent, dogs need you. You can't just leave a dog home for a day or two with an extra bowl of food and water like a cat. You have to walk a dog, even if it's freezing cold outside, which it often is here in New York. Even with all of my cautious opposition he was not swayed. So, being the supportive man I am, I agreed to help out with "our baby", hoping we weren't making a huge mistake.

Easter Sunday night we picked up the dog, a Yorkshire terrier puppy by the name of Bella. She was cute but nevertheless a dog. Pubby made sure she was extra cute by buying her all kinds of bows and pink cutesy shit, I'm like dude, she's a dog. He made sure that she had the quote-unquote "best" food, made of all kinds of nasty organic shit, fucking wheat and cranberries and shit. It smelled like death in a paper bag. Bella wouldn't touch the stuff and who could blame her. I tried to tell Pubby that at the end of the day under all the bows and clothes that Bella is an animal, animals like meat and her food should smell like and contain some type of meat, like Keisha's food.

Tuesday was Bella's first night at my place. It was also the first time she was meeting her stepsister Keisha. Let's just say Bella and Keisha aren't best buddies. The stoic nature of an eight year old cat and the playfulness of a puppy her same size don't quite mix. I haven't heard Keisha hiss so much in all her life. It's so much that they're fighting, there's really no contact as they both scare the hell out of each other. Our uniting reminds me of the TV show "Step By Step". I'm like Patrick Duffy's character with the laid back children and Pubby's like Suzanne Somers character with the uptight, prissy children, coming together to make a family.

With all this stuff going on, between me working and Pubby working and us having our animal children, training puppies, petting cats and shit, like true new parents, Pubby and I haven't had much quote-unquote "us" time. Time to, well, you know, have sex. So we decided after putting it off over and over again for the past week, not due to lack of desire, but just plain ol' being tired, that we would finally have sex yesterday morning. So we did and it was great, as usual. Sex with Pubby is always great. I know what he likes and he knows what I like but we also know how to mix it up just right so it's not predictable. We switched positions in the middle of sex so as usual before I went back at it (literally, wink, wink) I slipped on a new condom and quickly disposed of the first one.

After he came we laid on my bed, I on top of him, basking in the post coital glow, in silence, when I heard a chewing sound, like somebody was chewing on a piece of gum. I looked over to the left and saw Bella licking the floor, then turning toward one of the condoms. One of the condoms! Where the fuck is the other condom?

"Babe, I think Bella ate one of the condoms..."

"She what!"

Yes, Bella ate one of the condoms from the floor. Pubby jumped up frantically, calling the vet while on my laptop Googling our little problem. It turns out that this sort of thing is more common than you'd think as he'd found numerous articles, musings and message board postings on the subject. If she were a bigger dog, under usual circumstances we'd just have to wait for the condom to pass through her system, but because she's only a puppy we'd have to induce vomiting. They recommended that we give her two tablespoons of 3% hydrogen peroxide. As soon as I heard the name of the chemical escape from his lips I put on my pants and like a good husband and father made my way out to the nearest Duane Reade Pharmacy. We gave her the peroxide and she lapped it up like it was a vodka and tonic, drinking like a true lush, she must get that trait from her parents. A few minutes later she threw up the condom and a whole bunch of yellow shit, probably mucus. She's fine. I guess we can't fuck like porn stars anymore, carelessly throwing condoms about. Throughout the whole ordeal Keisha was cutting her shady little eyes at all of us. Under her breath I could almost hear her mumbling "Dumb bitch! I wouldn't have done that shit! I've been around for eight years. I know to steer clear when daddy starts throwing condoms!"

All in all. I surprisingly enjoy having a dog. Although she is way needier than Keisha I do enjoy the fact that she enjoys seeing me and gets excited every time I walk into the room. Keisha on the other hand is really loving sometimes and really shady sometimes, whenever she feels like it, but that's what I love about her. She's still Daddy's baby, they both are, they all are.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Put It In Your Mouth"
by Akinyele
from the album "Put It In Your Mouth - The EP"
==========

==========
Today's Throwback Blog Post:
Did I Ever Tell Y'all The Crack Story...?
Originally posted August 31st, 2007
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 09:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | 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)

"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.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Over A Man"
by Sharissa
from the album "No Half Steppin'"
==========

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.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Player Not the Game" feat. Carl Thomas
by Lil' Mo
from the album "Based On A True Story"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (6) | 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.

==========
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"
==========

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.

==========
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"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | 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)

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.

==========
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)

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.

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Playing In The Background...
"Kissing You"
by Faith Evans
from the "Waiting To Exhale Movie Soundtrack"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 03:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

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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.
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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.

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

Today, November 5th, 2007 is my parent's 30th wedding anniversary. Of course I'ma call them and send them some money since I can't be down south with them today. Their milestone got me to thinking: "Damn, thirty years is a long ass time to be looking at the same person every day. I know y'all gotta get tired of each other." Well, as a person whose witnessed twenty-four of those thirty years I can truthfully say, hell yeah they got tired of each other, they would argue, things weren't always perfect. They even separated for a year and a half or so when I was around seven or eight years old. That whole period is kinda fuzzy and oddly I can't remember everything but it wasn't all peachy keen. But through it all they manged to remain and are still together today. Not many people can say that about their parents.

Having this example, even though my mother would wince at having their holy union of matrimony be compared to a salacious, lustful, abominable, abdominal (lol I couldn't help myself) affair between two men, makes me more hopeful than the average homo about the prospect of spending the rest of my life happily with another man. in spite of all I've been through even this, that, and even that I still manage to believe in love. My parents met in May of '77 and married six months later in November 0f '77, so on top of that I don't believe that true love has to take ten years to develop either.

It's so sad when I hear my fellow homo brethren or sistren (depending on who I'm talking to) say things like "the gay life is a lonely life" and that they are just gonna "give up and be alone forever". We've all been burned before. Lord knows my heart has been burned, roasted, fricasseed, fried, steamed, poached, scrambled and cut into julienne fries but I'm still not giving up on love. I'm learning the more I write this blog and let all my past shit go and the more I read the stuff y'all comment on and email to me (yes I read all of it) that the key is loving myself and making myself better so I'll be ready for Mr. Right whenever we bump into each other. Now some of you lonely bitches may say "Well Adam, long term relationships are only for straight people." Not so, remember Mr. President from this post? Well, him and his lover are still together and they just past the 30 year mark in June. So it's possible. It ain't easy but it's possible. So I'm not worried about it, well I'm not so worried about it. I just don't let it consume me anymore. I'm just working on my passion right now and being the best Adam I can be, everything else will fall into place.

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Playing In The Background...
"Never Gonna Give Up"
by Jennifer Lopez
from the album "Brave"
and
"Love's Still Alright"
by Chante Moore
from the album "Exposed"
and
"Solid"
by Ashford & Simpson
from the album "The Very Best Of Ashford & Simpson"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 09:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | 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.

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

P: "Morning sweetheart."

A: "Good morning."

P: "What u up to?"

A: "Writing in my blog."

P: "Cool."

A: "Did you ever get that text?"

P: "No."

I sent him another text paraphrasing the original one I sent. I don't think he got that either so I called him and told him how I felt. He was cool with it. Why wouldn't he be, it was what he wanted. It's not as though what I want is important or anything. About three hours later I receive this text:

CC: "Hey Adam,
It's Cancel Cancel. I just wanted to let you know I got a job. (He was looking for a new job last time we talked) Thanks for all of your encouraging words and hopefully we can be friends again."

A: "Yeah why not, we can be friends. I actually miss ur goofy ass. lol"

CC: "Yeah man I miss you too. I'm really sorry for not showing u the same amount of attention you showed me. I guess I don't know how to let my guard down."

This shit is crazy. Are these dudes relay racing or some shit? It's like as soon as I'm mad at one here comes the other. Do they call each other and plan this shit? Anyway, I'm nice, you know I forgave him. Even after I went all off on him in this post. I even saw him this past Friday. Now are things back to the way they used to be? Hell fuckin' no! As easy as it would be for me to say "Awww that's nice, I forgive you." and forget everything and walk off into the sunset, I'm not. I like him but homeboy still has some shit to prove to me. So I'm kicking off my Timbs, putting my feet up on the dashboard and letting him drive things for a while. It's different for me but I'm doing it. Like I said in the post I'm making sure his ass shows me some damn effort. With that we'll see if he's really serious or not. But I do have to say he's been doing pretty good lately. He's been calling and texting more, stopping by my job to see me or even leaving with me sometimes. We work close to each other and get off at the same time. I'm not getting all caught up but we'll see.

Back to Pubby. We texted each other a little bit that day but I was still doing my best to be indifferent. For most people it's so easy not to care and not to pour out affection but for me it's really hard. I must been doing a decent job though because he texted me two days later, that next Monday:

P: "R u mad at me?"

A: "Nah I'm not mad at u. You've probably noticed that I've been somewhat indifferent w u lately. It's just that I have feelings 4 u. And u don't feel the same for me. And as much as I would like to tell u how much I miss u or how much I wanna hold u in my arms again or how your smile makes me melt. I can't, what's the point? It's hard but I'm making a conscious effort no to do or say too much. I'm just tryna give you space."

P: "I respect that. I respect your feelings. I have no choice but to. I really have no idea what to say."

So I pour my heart out like a damn fool and he has nothing to say... figures. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me and why I like this dude so damn much! That text was an emotional outburst that did not get approval by my mind before going out. Remember what I said about that send button? I don't know why I told him all that. I really regret that shit now. Why the fuck couldn't that pussy-ass text message get stalled in the atmosphere. Even the fuckin' cell phone company is working against me. Even after sending that message at that moment I didn't see Pubby the same way anymore. The lustre was gone, the magic faded. At that moment he became just like every other guy who has trampled over my heart in the past.

From that day the text messages were few and further between. We did have plans to meet up on Friday evening (that's this past Friday, four days ago, I know it's hard but keep up) though because I needed to pick up something from him. I also had my date with Cancel Cancel later that night so I told him that I would need to make things kinda early because I had something to do later. When I saw Pubby that Friday evening. I didn't feel quite the same way about him anymore, sure I still had some feelings for him and he was attractive, shit he was fine, but I made sure to come with extra tight security around my heart that day. I was so guarded that I didn't even hug him when I saw him. He didn't even look the same to me. He even said to me "Oh, I don't get no hug." I hugged him but I made a conscious effort to get down to business and keep it there. He really hurt me more than he realized and I was not trying to get sucked in again.

His friend Alex, came to pick him up from where we were. I needed to get to an ATM so he asked his friend if he could drive me there. That was awfully considerate, but I wasn't gonna think anything of it. When I left the ATM I walked back to the car and was preparing to say my thank you's and goodbyes, go home and get ready for my date with Cancel Cancel and my photo shoot the next day. Then Pubby asked his friend whether he could drive me to the train I needed to take. Okay, now this is weird. Pubby has been so aloof, cold and antiseptic all week. Why is he being so warm now? But whatever, I took the ride. right before I exited Alex's car Pubby said "Have fun on your date tonight." How the fuck did he know I had a date? And what's it to him? And why would he care? As nice as it would be for him to actually show that he was alive and be a bit jealous I knew better than to think that. I have my stupid moments but I'm not that stupid. He ain't been caring that much.

So I had my date with CancelCancel. It was cool, like I said, he seemed to be showing some improvement lately but I'm not tryna get caught up in that. I was already over men that day, all men. We chilled, it was cool. But I didn't think much of it. It was what it was and if it happens again, good, if not, good. Whatever. Like I said, he's in the driver's seat now so we'll see how serious he is.

Saturday I had the photo shoot and it turned out great. You'll see the pictures here probably by the weekend. Pubby had been excited talking all week about this party he was going to that night. And he said that maybe we'd see each other Sunday, that is if he wasn't tired after a whole weekend of partying. A week ago I probably would have been all hyped to see him on Sunday but at this point I was numb and slowly starting to get over him anyway so I didn't really care one way or another and I didn't bother asking him about it again. If we saw each other we did, if we didn't we didn't. I mean our seeing each other was based on a condition, whether he was tired from partying all weekend. As usual Adam is on the back burner, Adam is not a priority even though I go out of my way for everyone else.

I texted Pubby and asked him for the info on that party he was talking about. He made it sound like it was gonna be so much fun so I thought maybe I should go. It was my friend Kevin's birthday that night. I met him and the rest of our people at a restaurant right after my photo shoot. They were going to the party as well. They went straight from the restaurant. I decided to go home and change clothes first. I was planning to arrive at the fashionably late time of 2:30. When I got home I was dead tired. Something told me that I should not go to that party. I already don't like parties and clubs as it is. Against my better judgement I went anyway. One of these days I'ma start listening to my better judgement. 

As soon as I get to the party and step out of the cab, who the fuck do I see but Chuck (I mention him in this post). Chuck is my ex-best friend who is still mad at me because I cut him off abruptly two years ago for being a shady bastard. I even went so far as to apologize to him via email back in July in an effort to move forward and he still is shady toward me. Every time I see his ass in a club or whatever he goes out of his way to speak to all of my friends and not speak to me. I'm like dude, grow the fuck up, it's not that serious, it was like two years ago. I'm not a shady person and to see him and have to be shady is so much work and I really wasn't into it that night. That was the first sign that I shoulda got my ass in a cab and went back home. And then in the party I see this other kid who threatened (yes threated cuz his ass ain't never do nothin') to fight me last year over some dumb shit. And then to top it off, some kid who I chilled with one night and never called me again (I never called him either) came up to me at the party talking to me like we're best friends and shit. I'm looking at him like who the fuck are you? And why the fuck are you talking to me? This was so not where I needed to be.

Pubby was supposed to meet me at the party. I saw Alex but I didn't see him. I was gonna text him and ask him where he was but then I thought 'Fuck that! I'm not looking for him.' I've done enough as far as he was concerned. I finally got callous and dammit I was staying that way! On the bright side I did see a few people I hadn't seen in a while. I stayed at that party a little over an hour. When my best friend Russell said he was ready to go I popped the fuck up like popcorn. I love my friends and it was nice to be with them, especially because it was Kevin's birthday that night, but I could have done without this.

When I got home that night my mind was going a million miles an hour. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why was I so stupid? I was angry. I couldn't sleep and I wrote Pubby a somewhat angry email to his cell phone telling him that I just didn't wanna deal with him anymore. I figure if I just remove myself from him then maybe I'll get my brain back. He was no good for me. I know I deserve someone who will treat me better, or at least treat me like I fuckin' exist. So I wrote it, hit the send button and went to sleep.

The next morning, Sunday morning I was out shopping and I got a call from a strange number. It's Pubby, calling me from his job. He proceeds to tell me that he lost his cell phone last night and that he didn't end up getting to that party until like an hour after I left. That also means that he did not receive the email I wrote him. What the fuck? Why is it that every time I grow some fuckin' chest hair and tell this dude how the fuck I feel something always happens? But you know what fuck that! I'm telling him how I feel right fuckin' now. So I told him that I feel like I need to be away from him for the time being so I could get over him and get my fuckin' mind back because he obviously is not into me like that. He proceeded to tell me that what I was doing was selfish and immature. He's then tells me how much he cares about me and how he doesn't want me to do this. And I'm standing there in a state of shock trying to figure out when he started caring about me so much. All the hardness I worked so hard to build up inside melted away, I crumbled. I reneged on my resolution. I even left the store I was at to go have dinner with him. We talked in a very friendly-like, platonic way about why my relationships never work. He told me that with all the wisdom I have and all the good advice I give to people I never seem to follow it for myself. Oh yeah, that day he found his phone, and my angry email.

For some reason I'm drawn to him and it can't possibly be healthy. Even after our dinner I wanted to do was kiss him and hold him in my arms again. What the fuck is wrong with me? That night, inspired by our conversation I poured my heart into this poem and emailed it to him. I also sent him another email. Both of which never got to his phone Sunday night. We talked on Monday, yesterday morning and he told me that he wanted to read what I had written. I tried all day yesterday, it wouldn't work. After I got home from the gym last night and after having gone through that horrible altercation with the police. I texted Pubby. He called me. I asked him if he had gotten the emails I wrote. You know, the ones where I poured my heart out, again. He said yes. There was silence. I asked him what he thought. He said he had nothing to say... figures.

So if there was anyone out there who thought that I thought that I was perfect, you're wrong. I'm very far from it. After reading this over and cringing at my actions I've just realized that my problem is that I don't fully realize my worth. I deserve so much more and so much better than the situations I put myself in. Not to sound the least bit conceited but I have dudes throwing themselves at me every day, I have people telling me Adam you're great, your writing is great, you're so handsome, you're a great guy, you're so sexy, you're all this, you're all that. The problem is that sometimes deep down inside I don't see it. I see it at times but then again I don't see it. How can I save the whole world and be a mess myself? One of these days I'm gonna realize that everything I need I already have inside of me and not to react out of a fear of being alone. I'm not totally hopeless though, some days are better than others and I'm a hell of a lot stronger than I used to be. Reading my life on this blog definitely helps. There's no way I can rationalize this stupidity. I'm forced to get off my ass and do something about it.

I woke up this morning and went to work today not sad, not mad, but different, I'm free. No angry phone calls, no declarative emails, no proclamations via text message. I'm not going out of my way anymore. I'm gonna just be, I'm just gonna live. I'm actually so glad to be alive. I could have very well had my life taken from me last night. If I were dead would any of this have mattered? Maybe someone would cry and then life would go on. My life is my responsibility. I have things to do and moves to make. I have goals to meet. That's why I spent my whole day writing this. This blog has given me more than most people have ever given me my entire life and the joy of my life right now is to share my experiences with each and every one of you, whoever will read, that hopefully someone can learn from my mistakes. That someone who has fallen off doesn't get totally discouraged. It happens to the best of us. So let's get back up on that saddle and ride again. Some of us will hobble, some will gallop, some of us will crawl but eventually we'll make it. Old habits die hard and the best way to kill them is to replace them with a new habit. Loving myself and realizing my worth is becoming my new habit.

=========
Playing In The Background...
"Walk Away"
by Christina Aguilera
from the album "Stripped"
and
"For A Lifetime"
by Teedra Moses
from the album "Complex Simplicity"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 04:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

"...When, you think you're in love,
You only see what you wanna see.
And all I see is me for you and you for me..."
-Mary J. Blige
from the song "Be Happy"

Desperate times call for desperate measures, especially when you become desperate. Love and feelings can cloud your better judgment so much that you become temporarily insane. In your right mind you know that to keep loving and caring and pining over someone who doesn't give a damn about you or feel with the intensity you do is crazy. But when we're infatuated with someone logic as simple as that is hard to grasp. It's especially difficult because in the beginning he used to care and be so loving and attentive and you still cling to those memories, but that's all they are, memories. He may have been great in the past but it doesn't change the fact that he's hurting you today. The longer you stay around him the worse you become, the more damage is done to your psyche. By this time his actions have proven that he's not that interested in you anymore and in staying around him no longer is he hurting you, but because you now know better you are are allowing yourself to be hurt, in a nutshell, hurting yourself.

In another form of insanity we can manufacture feelings and inferences from someone that weren't ever really there. Then we vilify that person for not reacting accordingly to the feelings and inferences that we manufactured. Again, staying a situation such as this only causes us to hurt ourselves once again. The other person serves only as the unknowing catalyst. I've learned that the only thing to do for your own sanity is not to get caught up in casting blame and playing victim but to remove yourself from situations like these by any means necessary. 

I remember this guy I dated a few years ago, one of my first boyfriends, we'll call him Andrew. It was another of my world famous whirlwind love affairs, as I've had more twisters in my life than Kansas. We met online, of course. I thought he was attractive, of course. He was tall, and lightskinned, about six feet, the same height as me. I talked to him on the phone for about five minutes before I invited him over. It was in December I believe, it was snowing outside and we were both bored, we figured 'why the hell not?' He came over and we ended up talking for about four and a half hours until suddenly I kissed him and our clothes just fell off. I didn't fuck him that day but we messed around rather heavily.

So we liked each other and started dating. We'd be on the phone all the time, day and night. He would always come over to my house and chill even though I was still living with my parents who I guess assumed that I was straight. We kinda had a "don't ask, don't tell" policy. He felt uncomfortable bringing dudes to his house because like me his family didn't know he was gay but unlike me he was severely uncomfortable with his homosexuality outside of intimate times with me. I shoulda known his ass was gonna be trouble then.

When he would come over we would only mess around a little bit as I felt uncomfortable going all the way at my parent's house. It's not as though I hadn't done it before but by that time my sister had moved back home so I never had the crib to myself and I had no lock on my door. What was weird though was that even though he knew the deal he would still pressure me about sex. That is the first and only time I've ever had a bottom, wait scratch that, a bottom that I actually wanted to have sex with, pressure me, the top, for sex, usually it's the other way around. Shit, now that I'm a grown up and I have my own place I wish that shit would happen again. Alas, it usually doesn't. Don't get me wrong though, I get it, but it's never that easy, I have to spit a little bit of "G" first.

One night though he wore me down. He spent the night at my house. I slept in my bed, he slept on the floor. Somehow around 3am I ended up on the floor with him. He was down there on his hands and knees, spread wide, back arched, ass tooted up it the air ready for me to hit it. After a few unsuccessful attempts we just gave up. He was too tight and I was just not fitting in and I'm sure the fact that I was nervous that we could get caught any second didn't help either. I really did wanna fuck him that night though. About a week or so later I got us a hotel room and I tore that ass up, twice.

Anyway, soon after our evening of coital bliss things started going downhill. He didn't seem to be interested in anything beyond sex. It was the age old story of I started getting attached to him, he started pulling away, he started canceling dates and started becoming harder and harder to find. We played this passive-aggressive game of ambivalence for a few weeks until things finally came to a head.

Sunday, February, 13th, 2005 I was in the car with my father. He was driving me to work that night and I called Andrew. Seeing that I was in the car with my father I made our conversation, well at least my side of it, rather ambiguous. Honestly I think my Dad knew I was gay but I was just playing along. In the midst of our convo I asked Andrew if he was coming to see me the next day. I was off from work and of course it was Valentine's Day (our conversation being ambiguous I didn't actually say the "V" word). This nigga was on the other line on some "What's so special about tomorrow?" actin'-real-dumb-ass-bullshit and I couldn't even react to it the way I wanted to because I was in the car with my father at the time. Now that I think about it I guess spending Valentine's Day with me would be admitting to himself that he really was gay as though sucking my dick and letting me fuck him weren't enough.

We got off the phone and I was furious. I couldn't even concentrate on my work when I got to work I was so mad. So I left the front desk, went in to the bathroom and called him back. Voicemail. I hung up. The bastard didn't even answer his phone. I was so tired of his bullshit. I didn't understand why he was treating me the way he did. What did I do but try to be nice and accommodating? I paced the bathroom floor. looked in the mirror and got my words together for the voicemail I was about to leave. So I proceeded to cuss his ass out and break things off via voicemail.

I felt good about what I did, fierce and independent. I filled my mind with a veritable parade of insults against him. I ain't gon' let no nigga hold me down! Fuck him! I don't need him! He ain't shit! He wasn't all that anyway! I am faggot, hear me roar! After the parade was over and the crowds went home and the ticker tape was all cleaned up, I got real with myself. I knew I had only thought about this breakup for about five minutes before I did it and that it was basically a knee jerk reaction to our conversation in the car. A part of me wanted to take the message back, I mean what if he didn't answer the phone because he was in the shower or talking to his mom, maybe we coulda talked this out, but it's too late, I did it now. I knew I wasn't over him but I was tired of him treating me so badly. So as an insurance measure just in case my will power faltered, 'cuz I know if I heard his voice I'd crumble and be right back with him, I figured I would just find a way to cut off all communication from him. I being desperate took a desperate measure and  erased his number out of my phone and I changed my cell number.

That should have worked and it did for a while but I knew his number by heart. About a month later in a moment of weakness I called him. I fucked up my own plan. So we talked, he said he missed me... bull shit! Long story short, for a few weeks we tried our hand at reconciliation. It didn't work. He was still a confused asshole who didn't love himself for the homo he was so I don't know how I ever expected him to love or care for me. I was a little stronger than I was the last time and instead for hurting over his ambivalence it was just getting on my last nerve. So I sunk to the lowest common denominator and played the revenge card. I told him that I was gonna meet him somewhere so that we could get a hotel room and have sex. That's all he wanted anyway. I had him meet me there and I never showed up. He called and I ignored it. I haven't spoken to him since.

Now you'd think after going through all of that with Andrew that I would have learned my lesson. Oh no not me. Unfortunately I was too hard headed for that.

About a year later I started talking to this guy (he's Person #2 in this past blog post, so we'll just keep that name for him). I'm gonna fast forward through a lot of the beginning part of me and Person #2 as I'm just repeating my same horrible relationship pattern that if you've been reading you kinda get by now. Remember the post about my horrible relationship pattern? Anyway, here we go.

We met on the internet, we talked on the phone, we met up in person a month later, we ended up sleeping together, I ended up developing instant feelings for him, sounding familiar? I would call him and not get him, leave him voice messages and anxiously wait for him to call me back. I remember that my mind used to be consumed with him. Whenever he would finally call or text me back I'd jump at the phone. After the first time he came to see me I was desperate for him to see me again. We didn't meet at my house. I used to work at a hotel where I got free room stays and he came by. That next week an opportunity came along where I would be alone at the hotel again and I called and asked him to come see me. I could tell he didn't mind seeing me but he never had the sense of urgency I had. It was very 'take it or leave it' with him.

Honestly, I knew when I first asked him to come he wasn't gonna make it. I could tell by his voice. This talent, per say is something I still possess today. I can tell by the way a person sounds, by their patterns of speech, whether they are really gonna attend something I invite them to whether it be a date or a social function. Call me a cynic but I have yet to be wrong. Knowing full well his ass was not coming I held on to the smallest glimmer of hope, hold up, lemme not even insult hope like that. I was basically making some shit up in my mind to give my self a false sense of whatever that he may come. He didn't show, he had some bullshit excuse I can't even remember. I remember calling him yet again that night after he didn't show up. I told him how I felt. He told me to slow down, that I was getting to attached to him, that I was too emotional. He was never mean about it though, at least he tried to spare my feelings. I should have retained some of my pride and just left him alone then.

Just when you think I've gotten to the pinnacle, the paramount, the apex of desperation there is yet more, but I couldn't see it for what it was because it came in a different form.

Even after that last phone call I continued to call Person #2. Somehow he ended up inviting me to this party, it was a birthday party for one of his friends at a club. At this time I had really limited experience with clubs and clubbing. I invited my then best friend, Chuck, who I was also going through problems with, out to the club with me for moral support. At that time I was fairly new to the gay scene and Chuck was my only friend. Anytime I went out it was with Chuck. That day I went out and bought a new outfit for the party. I was so excited that Person #2 had invited me to something and that I would be meeting some of his friends. I wanted to look good.

Even though Chuck had previously agreed to go with me due to him wanting to be with his new boyfriend that night he canceled on me at the last minute, like literally an hours before we were supposed to meet up. I called Person #2 twice and didn't get him. I called him again later and I got him, he was with his friends, we talked briefly. He didn't seem too excited at the prospect of seeing me that night. I wanted to talk to him longer but he kinda shooed me off the phone. It was bitterly cold that night and all the circumstances around me were screaming "Adam, stay your ass home you stupid bitch!" but I turned a deaf ear and decided to go out anyway.

I woke up from my disco nap at 12 midinight. I remember while putting my look together in the hallway my mother and sister commented on how good I looked and I did look good. Unfortunately I didn't feel very good. My mind and my heart were so heavy and full of doubt. As I got my look together that night it was hard to look in the mirror. I knew my black ass shouldn't have been tryna go out that night. I knew that this dude wasn't checking for me like that. I should have gone back to bed and saved my outfit for someone who cared. But holding on to good ol' my false sense of whatever I left the house at about 1am.

After walking, taking the bus and walking some more. I got to the club. I paid my money, got patted down and went in. The place was small but crowded. I found Person #2 and we talked for a few moments. It was so good to see him again, being around him caused me to light up inside. Of course, given my inexperience with the scene I knew no one there and I followed Person #2 around like a puppy dog. That is until he shook me off and left me alone. Which he should have after a while. I wasn't his man, we weren't together. Truthfully I really had no business there.

During the course of the night he introduced me to his best friend, the birthday boy. When he introduced us, the birthday boy hardly turned from where he was to shake my hand. I'll never forget the look his friend gave me. It's like he literally could see my desperation. He didn't even look at me, he looked through me. It was such a shady and terrible look that it shook me to the core. He saw me for what I was and knew that I didn't belong there. Granted, I probably read way too much into his look. He could have just been a run-in-the-mill shady ass queen but when you're already feeling insecure or invalidated you become hyper-sensitive to invalidation from others and start to see it everywhere and in everything and from everyone.

Sitting there by myself in that club watching everyone talk and laugh and socialize I never felt so alone. Sure, guys looked at me and flirted with me throughout the night but that's what guys do. I wish I felt half as good as they thought I looked. As I sat on a couch in the corner all these thoughts came racing to my mind, like why the fuck was I here? What the fuck was I doing? I don't know why I didn't just gather my last shreds of dignity and go back home. I stayed until the club let out at 4am. I waited for Person #2 on the sidewalk. He talked to me a little, the birthday boy came by and butted in our conversation as though I wasn't standing there. Person #2 told me that he would have given me a ride home but his car was full. It was a nice gesture I guess, but I didn't expect a ride from him though. I'm not sure what I expected. I just wanted to be with him. One thing about Person #2 was that even though he obviously wasn't that into me he was never really mean about it. Unfortunately that's all a desperate person like me needed to be strung along. And it's not as though he'd be stringing me along, desperate people often read deeper into things than they are and end up stringing themselves along.

I walked to the train station and headed home. Some guy, obviously from the club, flirted with me and asked me my name on the train. My mind so wasn't there right then. I wasn't attracted to him and I was way too sad and tired to humor him that night. On the platform as I waited for the next train in an effort to make myself feel better I blasted Remy Ma's "Conceited" from my earphones. I mean, regardless of how I felt I still looked good, right? I applied that band-aid to my cancer and it was enough to keep me composed until I got home.

When I crept back into the house at after 5am I remember feeling so worthless. Why did I throw myself at yet another man? This time it was even worse because it really wasn't his fault. He told me what the deal was. He wasn't leading me on. He was only being nice. I led myself on. Then I thought about Andrew, and even my friend Chuck, how we used to be so close but he got some new friends and never had time for me anymore. I needed Chuck more than ever tonight. Why am I always having to run, struggle and fight to get attention from people? Why can't people just love and accept me? Why doesn't anybody want me? Why am I always breaking my back to please people and they never appreciate it? Why do I read so much into things? As all those why's ran through my mind I looked up to the ceiling of my dark bedroom a warm tear rolled down my left cheek. I snapped.

I rose from my bed and said "No." audibly. I said it out loud even though no one else was in the room. I didn't need to say it to anybody. I said it to me. I'm not crying over this shit, I refuse. I've had enough.  Fuck this! This is my life and dammit I'm gonna be happy! And if there is someone who doesn't want me then fuck them too. I remember being so angry that I had reduced myself to so little. The anger wasn't about them, granted they had their faults in it. The anger was at me because I let it happen. Here I am at home crying in the middle of the mother fuckin' night while niggas are at home catching zzzz with their fuckin' toes turned to the ceiling. Oh, I don't think so!

A more desperate time called for an even more desperate measure. I picked my cell phone and deleted every number of every friend, associate, one night stand, ex, or ever I felt was not treating me the way I deserved to be treated. Half of my address book was erased and I changed my phone number, again. I basically started all over. No best friend, no boyfriend all I had was my renewed sense of self. I was not gonna let anyone into my life who did not treat me with the utmost respect. I also stopped lying to myself about people's intentions and listening to my own instincts. Because I knew way before the breakups that Andrew and Person #2 weren't good for me but I was so busy wanting them that I didn't listen to what my instincts were telling me.

So the natural question to ask would be, well, you did that before, what is changing your number again gonna do? Absolutely nothing. What I learned from last time was that my number is not what needed to change. I needed to change my mind and the way I thought. This time the number change was just a symbol of my change of mind, instead of an instrument to bolster my will power. It made it much easier to cut off a mass of people at once. I learned that doing the best thing for me shouldn't be an exercise of will power but of brain power.

Last time I also used the fact that Andrew was an asshole as a crutch. I victimized myself. In a relationship between two able-bodied adults you can only be a victim after the first time. If a man hits you, cheats on you, etc., you are only a victim after that first time. Any time after that you know what he's capable of doing and in staying with him you have made a conscious decision to forgive him, to accept it, etc. Which is fine and hopefully he never does it again. Everybody deserves a second chance. But if he does do it again you cannot claim victim status. That's why I was so crazy over Person #2. Going into it I hadn't fully accepted my part in the Andrew situation. Yes Andrew was an a asshole but I made the decision to stay. I figured that because unlike Andrew and he was always so nice to me that it must mean that he was really into me. Therefore when he was trying unlike Andrew was to be nice and let me down slowly I didn't want to see it. I was being totally desperate in both situations, but until the second time I didn't fully own up to it. In order to get over anything in a relationship you have to keep it real with yourself and see your part in it first. Desperation is not about the lies he tells you, it's about the ones you tell yourself.

So I urge you that if you are in a desperate situation, whether the person is really hurting you or you're hurting yourself making yourself believe that feelings are there that aren't you may need to take that desperate measure and remove yourself from the situation in order find your inner strength and build your self esteem. You'll never be able to do that running after some guy all the time. Ask yourself why you feel the way you feel for a person who obviously doesn't feel the same about you. Get real with yourself and accept that you are acting foolishly and don't be afraid to recognize the signs next time around, because no matter how much we lie to ourselves there are always signs that a person is no good for us. We just choose to ignore them. A wise man once said "insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

Needless to say, from that day forward I started listening to my instincts. I never called Andrew, Person #2, or Chuck again and I have not changed my phone number again.

This situation is what spawned "ADAM'S RELATIONSHIP THEORY".

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Silly Bitch In Love"
by Olivia
from the album "Olivia"
and
"Feel The Same Way I Do"
by Destiny's Child
from the album "#1's"
and
"Be Happy"
by Mary J. Blige
from the album "My Life"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 03:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

"...If only I could let you go, why do I need you so?
It's amazing what a boy can do, I cannot stop myself.
Wish I didn't want you like I do, want you and no one else..."

"...If only I could set you free, you worked your way inside of me.
It's amazing what a boy can do, I cannot stop myself.
Wish I didn't want you like I do, want you and no one else..."

"...It's amazing what a boy can say, I cannot stop myself
Seems I love you more than yesterday, love you and no one else."
-Madonna
from the song "Amazing"

When I first head this song on Madonna's "Music" album back in 2000 it was just a song, a good song, but just a song nevertheless. I would sing along to "Amazing" bopping my head to the beat and the guitars like it was nothing. It wasn't until I got into my first of a string of unhealthy, uneven, fucked up relationships that these words really started meaning something. That's when I learned that it really is amazing what a boy can do and what's even more amazing is the dumb shit that I would do and the ridiculous lengths I would go to keep said boy.

A few years ago I had ago I had an ex, we'll call him Jack. Jack and I met online. We talked on the internet for a while then we exchanged numbers and had some really hot phone sex after which he told me that he was from Brooklyn but living in a city about 1,100 miles away at the time, going to school. He seemed cool but I never saw the point of getting all wrapped up in somebody who was long distance so I basically stopped talking to him after that. He called a few times though and I just didn't bother answering the phone. Why should I? He wasn't here. What the fuck were we gonna do, have more phone sex? At that time I was too interested in real sex to want to acquire another long distance phone sex buddy. I had enough of those already.

He texted me about a month later and asked me if I remembered him, surprisingly I did. He told me that he'd be in the city soon. I told him to hit me up when he got into town, cutting our text convo short. As I  stated I really didn't have any patience to talk to long distance dates, even the ones that say they're coming to town. I'll believe it when I see it, that was my philosophy.

Obviously he did end up coming to town, he called me and we scheduled a meeting. When we met in person we discovered that we had gone to high school together but didn't know each other as we didn't hang out in the same circles. Jack was my type but I wasn't immediately attracted to him. As the night went on though he became sexier and sexier. Now that I think about it, it's probably because he took that damn durag he was wearing off his head. I hate when dudes where those things outside.

That night we hung out with his friends. They were real cool and we all were just walking through Brooklyn together talking and laughing, enjoying the warm night. Occasionally jack and I would exchange a lustful, flirty glance or two. I was feeling him but I couldn't help but feel like I was being reeled in somehow, not that he was a con artist or anything but from some of the stories his friends shared and from some of his mannerisms and things he said I picked up that breaking hearts wasn't a foreign thing to him. I made a note to myself not to go too fast too soon, to feel his ass out first, figuratively and literally. I remember we were sitting on the stoop of his friend's house when he gave me the naughtiest little look and texted me:

"Take the bus home with me so I can suck your dick."

My dick hardened with anticipation. I was excited and most definitely planned on being on that bus with him. He lived out of my way but fuck it, some things are worth going a little out of your way for sometimes. As I walked him home from the bus stop early that next morning I thought that he may have forgotten the promise he made me only a few short hours ago. I wasn't gonna stress it. I was having a good time with him and would even settle for just a kiss from him. I didn't care what we did I just wanted to be alone with him. All of our subliminal flirting got me so hot and bothered.

When we got to his, well, really his parent's house I walked him in and closed the front door behind me. We were in a small foyer area between the front door and a door that led to the rest of the house. I realized he hadn't forgot. After a few minutes of pleasantries and nervous conversation we kissed and it was fireworks. As our bodies were pressed against each other I groped him. His body felt so good in my hands, his back, his waist, his ass that I gripped and massaged forcefully with both hands. He tugged at my belt, freed my rock hard dick from me jeans, gripped it at the base got down on his knees and said:

"It's even bigger in person."

Then he began to lick, suck, kiss  and deep throat my dick like we were in love and this was our first anniversary, not like he had only met me only six hours ago. He devoured me with no fear or inhibition. He sent shockwaves of pleasure through my body so strong I could hardly stand up. Just when I thought it couldn't get any better he stood up, bent over and said:

"I want you to fuck me."

I dropped to my knees and feasted on his ass as he moaned and squirmed. I wanted to get him lubed up enough so that I could fuck him. Surprisingly I had no lube or condoms on me as I'm usually prepared for dates but who knew the night would turn out like this. I stood up, took my rock hard dick and smacked both his ass cheeks with it and made an attempt to enter him. It didn't work. I was too big to get inside of him without lube. Once we both realized that intercourse wasn't gonna happen, which was the best thing seeing that I didn't have a condom, he took my dick back into his mouth and sucked it ravenously until I ejaculated down his throat. As I tried to regain my composure he stood back up, kissed me, and invited me back over later to chill and of course to fuck.

Later that day I came back over, we chilled and talked and as we conversed I learned more about him. I even started to vaguely remember him from high school. I also remember why we never associated back then. He used to hang with the gay crowd, I didn't. At that time I was not that confident in my sexuality and even if I were I definitely didn't have the balls to hang with the gay crowd, not that I wanted to anyway. One thing led to another and we ended up having glorious, passionate, raw sex. Of course I know fucking raw is risky and just plain wrong, especially nowadays. I was going against my better judgment by doing it but he didn't like condoms and I liked him so I did it.

I remember how I had him in missionary position on the bed stroking him slowly but steadily making his bed creak with every thrust of my pelvis. The looks of pleasure on his face was so beautiful that I couldn't keep my eyes off him. In an effort to quiet things down as his mother was in the next room Jack stopped me and laid out a sheet on the floor and we proceeded to have sex down there. I remember that being some of the best sex of my life. Not because it was raw, but because of him. I wanted him so bad, he was so alluring and sexy to me. I liked him but I also sensed that he was a coquette who probably ate nice guys like me for lunch, I was trying not to fall, not to give him too much of myself but I couldn't help it, it was euphoric. To hear the vulnerability in his quiet moans and feel him grip my body so tightly as I went deeper inside of him was amazing. It gave me hope that maybe he was different, maybe he could be the one. I was falling for him.

From then on we spent just about every day of those next few weeks after that together and if we weren't together we were talking on the phone constantly. Due to lack of opportunity (we both lived at home at the time) we didn't even get to have sex again. Even so we had grown very closely very quickly and as usual in my life that spelled trouble. I didn't want things to end when he left. I told him that he was special to me and that even though we were gonna be apart it didn't mean we couldn't be together. We discussed it, scheduling, visiting, etc., and basically laid the ground work for a long distance relationship (I know, I know, don't look at me that way). The outcome of the arrangement was that we would see each other at least once a month between me going out there and him having school vacations and coming back home. It seemed at the time that our little arrangement could actually work.

So he left to go back to school and that same night I booked plane tickets and a hotel room for three weeks later. We were on the phone constantly for that three weeks. I'd be on the phone with him at work all night and on the phone with him at home everyday. He would tell me about his friends at school. I would talk to them. I would tell him about all that was happening at home. He would always tell me how much he missed me and how he couldn't wait to see me. I remember how we would send each other pictures back and forth and how I would look at his picture in my cell phone and smile and long for the day I would see him again.

As the day I was scheduled to leave was approaching the calls got less and less and I could feel him slipping away from me. Even when we did talk I could feel him backpedaling away from our original agreement. But even with that he was jealous when it came to me talking or seeing other people. Now that I think about it that's probably why he kept me on the phone all damn night all the time. While he was stuck in some hick town I was living here in New York, 'the fine ass ethnic men's capital of the world'. What's crazy is that with all the men here to choose from I only wanted him and here he was casting me aside, but still wanting me to be faithful to him.

He was really hurting me so in an effort to ease my pain I did the only thing I knew how. I went out and got my dick sucked by somebody else. As fucked up as it was, knowing that someone else in this world was attracted to me gave me this temporary pseudo-strength I felt I needed to deal with this situation. Like Popeye, you know, the sailor man? Popeye is to spinach as Adam is to getting his dick sucked, that was my spinach.

As the days passed things only got worse and worse. I wanted to just cancel the whole thing and maybe start something with the kid that had sucked my dick a few days prior. But I had already scheduled the time off work and paid for non-refundable plane tickets and a part of me still wanted to see Jack. All I could think about was the time we spent together and the way I fucked him on the floor of his bedroom, that shit was so amazing. I really wanted to be with him. Needless to say I was panicking. Not only was this hurting my heart, it was wasting my time, and even worse than that, it was costing me money. As much as I wanted him he was pissing me the fuck off.

The night before I was scheduled to leave I was at work and we got into a big argument after which I decided 'Fuck you, fuck this, fuck it! I'm not going'. He basically told me in a nutshelI that I'm basically on my own in his town. That if I saw him I saw him, if I didn't I didn't. He wasn't even gonna stay in the hotel with me. What the fuck was I gonna do in a city that I have never been too, don't know anybody in, and don't know a motherfuckin' thing about? Was he serious? This was no vacation, I was coming to see him. I remember him being such an asshole about it too. He was so aloof. He didn't care that I was putting my whole life on hold to come see him. He made it seem like this was all my big idea, as though we hadn't talked about and agreed to this. Now that I think about it, what the fuck did he have to lose here? We were the same age but here I was working my ass off making a pretty good living for a 22 year old while he was a broke ass college student who was gonna be coming to New York back and forth during holidays regardless. His obligation to me was no more than a bus ride across town while I'm flying across the country. I was the one making all the sacrifices in this deal we made and now he wants to pull the fuck away, ain't that a bitch! Granted, yes I was stupid to think that a homosexual that I knew for only about a month and a half at that time would do something crazy like honor his word.

What was so crazy and hurtful was that I wondered how much of what he was saying this and doing this whole time was real? Was he just faking it the whole time? And If he was faking, why would he? Why is even pulling away like this? What happened, what did I do? As much as I wanted answers to these questions I sure as hell wasn't gonna call his ass back and ask, fuck that. Now is the time for action.

So I canceled the hotel and the plane tickets. The airline said that I could keep half the money I paid for the tickets on hold, something like a store credit. I told my best friend Russell, who lives in a city about halfway between me and Jack the situation and he suggested that I take the bus down and come visit him since I had the time off, I agreed. I also made plans to visit my sisters, who I hadn't seen in a while and happened to live only 90 minutes west of Russell in an effort to kill two birds with one stone.

I'm on the bus in Newark, New Jersey, about 20 minutes outside New York and my cell phone rings and of course it was Jack. I had been ignoring all of his phone calls since the argument and didn't bother to tell him that I was not coming to see him. I thought my hanging up on his fallacious faggot ass would have implied that. But I decided that I wanted to revel in the pleasure of telling him that I wasn't coming, as though he would actually care. I answered. He got on that phone and cried and sobbed like a baby and apologized for everything he said and damn near begged me to come see him. I melted like a suppository in the crack of somebody's ass. I ended up going to see Russell but I cut that trip short and due to time restraints cut my sisters out altogether. I got a refund for my bus tickets to my sister's place and back to New York, bought a new more expensive, last minute plane ticket from Russell to Jack and used the credit I had on hold for a new flight home. I called the hotel and begged them to reinstate my employee rate. All of this costing me more money.

Three days later arrived in Jack's city. I got myself settled and armed with a bus map of the city that I had been studying for the last two weeks I went to pick Jack up from school. And there he was, just as fine as I remembered. Seeing him just made everything okay, the argument, the canceled tickets, the money, everything. We had sex again that next night and it was amazing again. We also fucked raw again which of course is wrong on so many levels. I know I don't talk much about the HIV and STD's on my blog but please don't fuck raw. Every time I think about the times I did it (mostly when I first came out and didn't know any better I cringe). If you're currently practicing raw sex please stop.

All during the trip he would introduce me to people as his "friend", even at the club we went to where dudes were flirting with him left and right. When I questioned him about that and exactly what the status of our relationship was he hit me with the ol' "We're still not in a relationship." one, two sucker punch to the gut. After flipping the bill for everything on that trip, food, the club, cabs, etc. This nigga never even opened his wallet, but I guess you can't pay for anything with cobwebs. Needless to say, I was emotionally and financially spent. I wasn't even so much hurt, I was numb and more importantly low on cash. I just came to the conclusion that this was it. It was over. At least I got my nutt off, right? And now I don't have to sit and wonder what could have been. Jack is officially an asshole, one that feels great stretched out around my dick, but an asshole nevertheless. I fucked him but he flipped me over and ended up fucking me... again, right in between the ventricles.

Oh by the way, I hope you didn't think it was over. So when I got back to New York I made a conscious effort not to speak to Jack. I got with the kid that sucked my dick and of course that ended. Soon after I found my way back to Jack's house and in his bedroom back at the scene of the crime. I found myself in his bed, again, quietly fucking him raw, again (see, you have to stop that shit before it becomes a habit), under his manipulative spell again. I was a little wiser the third time around and did not press any type of commitment or relationship issues. I kept it strictly as sex but I know that if he would have wanted me to I would have still dropped everything to be with him.

Eventually with some time contemplation and deliberate and complete avoidance (sometimes it takes just that) I totally got over Jack. I started to see him for the bullshitter that he was. I don't hate him at all, we'll still communicate via MySpace every once in a while. I've even seen him in the club a few times and he'll flirt with me and it does nothing. I'm totally over him now and when I see him I wonder how I ever got so far under him in the first place and how I ever let him manipulate me the way he did. I also wonder how I fell so deep for Jack and thought that things could actually work with him after knowing him for ten minutes. It truly is amazing what a boy can do, both boys involved.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Amazing"
by Madonna
from the album "Music"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 11:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm the first person to say that I'm no relationship expert, most things I have learned about life and relationships I've learned through trial and error. I'm nobody's psychologist and I hardly ever give anybody advice. But there is one thing I can advise on as it has been proven time and time again in my life, so much so that I have made adopted it as my overall relationship theory.

Adam's Theory:
"If a man really wants to do something he will do it. Period."

Sounds simple doesn't it? So then why the hell don't we ever remember it when we're involved with someone? Let's take our friend CancelCancel. As you have read (and if you haven't read, read it here) he canceled twice on me before our first date. We eventually went out we had a good time and then we went out again (read about that here). But all during the time we were dating I felt like I wanted it more than he did. I was always the one doing most of the calling and I was always initiating our dates and meetings while he remained somewhat indifferent about the whole thing, canceling, postponing, changing dates and "we'll see-ing" and "iono-ing" me to death. I told him how I felt, yet no changes. So in an effort not to jump to any conclusions regarding his feelings or lack thereof I decided to test things out. I stepped back, I stopped calling and I texted him my availability leaving it up to him to make the next date. I got one call and during that call I didn't even mention that the day had past that I was available for the date. I left it all up to him. If he wanted to see me he was gonna have to put forth some kind of effort, just as I did. After all I've been through I refuse to run after another man.

On Thursday I got this text message from him:

CancelCancel: "Have I done something wrong? If I have then let me know. You haven't been talking to me lately sooo I just wanna know what's happening between us so that way we can avoid a serious let down."

Dude you've gotta be kidding me. "I haven't been talking to you..." You mean I stopped running after yo' ass. Dudes act like they don't know to pick up a dayum phone. I told him before that I felt that things were uneven and that I was not gonna run after him. I was tryna be nice but I guess he didn't believe me. By this time I was over it. Where the hell have you been all week? Now you want to show some concern. Whatever. I texted him back on Saturday, two days later:

Me: "As far as your text message: CancelCancel, I'm surprised that you even care as far as I'm concerned. I have nothing against you but I've just grown tired of running after u. I'm always the one trying to see u and meet up with u. What happened to last Sunday? U were supposed to get back to me and u never did... I don't feel as though you want this as much as I did and as a result I have become disinterested in pursuing things further with u romantically. I like you as a person, ur kewl but I'm obviously not a priority... and that's kewl... We're just not at the same place right now and I'm not tryna get myself hurt pushing you into something that you obviously don't want. Because if you wanted it you would have taken the initiative. Period. At this point there is no future for us. Period. So why waste each other's time? I wish you the best in all your endeavors."

He text me back two hours and one minute later:

CancelCancel: "I understand where ur coming from. We're not meant for each other. I don't regret any of the time spent with u. I wish u all the best in life Adam. Nice knowing u.
-CancelCancel"

Now ain't that some shyt? Ya see why I don't get caught up so easily anymore. Was I not absolutely right? That was very 'easy come, easy go' as far as I was concerned. I'm so thankful for situations like this because it shows me how much I've grown. Now if this were two years ago I would have never even sent that first message. I would have suffered silently and tried my hardest to push him deeper into a one-sided, uneven, hurtful mess of a relationship. And if it were a year ago I would have called him, cussed his ass out, and hung up the phone on him. But I've grown. My best friend told me in the beginning after I told him that he canceled those first two dates that I was, and I quote "a stupid bitch" and to leave his ass alone but I was really sexually attracted to him and figured that more than likely we wouldn't go anywhere serious but I may get a few hot sessions out of the deal. Dating is supposed to be fun right? That's why I never put too much on it in the first place. I liked him but I've dated guys like him many times before and I knew what I was getting into. He's not a bad person, he's cool, there's no hard feelings. What he did wasn't necessarily wrong, it was wrong for me. But I've learned after seeing actions like his though not to expect much.

The moral of this story is: DON'T EVER RUN AFTER A MAN! EVER! Lemme repeat that for the people just skimming this post: DON'T EVER RUN AFTER A MAN! EVER! If he wants you, he will show you. He will make an effort toward getting to know you. The effort between you should be shared and equal. Your actions cannot make anyone love you, or like you, or appreciate you more. It's either there or it isn't. He wants you or he don't. And your heart will tell you you're doing too much. Listen to it, don't ignore it. Unlike most things in life this is black or white, very simple, either one or the other. You should not always be calling, you should not always be planning. Even if he gives you a million excuses, be understanding but realize that something still has to give sometime. If a man really wants something he will do whatever he has to do to get it. Period. Simple as that. If you can sacrifice sometimes for him, why can't he for you? Anything worth having is worth working and sacrificing for and if homeboy doesn't ever do it for you then that should tell you that you aren't worth having, to him, that is. Drop him.

This was a mild situation. 'Cuz back in the day situations like this would have me going through it. Since this is one of the only things I can say I know and can teach with complete certainty please take my advice. If you ever feel like your efforts in a friendship or a relationship aren't being reciprocated, stop. Talk to that person and tell them how you feel. Their reaction to your feelings will let you know whether they're worth having around.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Doing Too Much"
by Paula DeAnda
from the album "Paula DeAnda"
and
"No Fool, No More"
by En Vogue
from the album "The Best Of En Vogue"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

==========
This is another one of those hard to write posts where I reveal stuff about me that I don't even like to think about.
Enjoy.
=========

What's the one thing every gay man is most afraid of?

Is it getting fat? Nope. But it's a good guess. Is it dying and going to hell? Nope. Well, I guess, for the church queens, but as a whole, no. Is it "the big disease with a little name"? Nope. Yes I said "nope," you heard me. Considering the statistics and our actions as a whole, as a community we obviously aren't all that afraid of it. Not to discount it at all but our collective actions toward it do not illustrate that we are all that fearful. So what is it you ask, what strikes fear in the hearts of all gay men? Growing old and alone.

A gay man once told me that the gay life is a lonely life. So many of us in this world, gay without our permission, born into this world, feeling flawed, look at straight people and all the opportunities they have to come together and start a family and at all the encouragement society as a whole gives them as opposed to all the discouragement and abuse society gives us.

Not to mention the way we fuck each other over. He fucked you over so you fuck over the next one and that next one fucks somebody over who you end up meeting at a club and ends up fucking you over and at the end of he day it's like what the fuck? When does it all fucking end? Can two man ever just fucking be together and be happy without all the fucking bullshit?

This is the thing, we're all wounded, wounded and scared. It's hard growing up gay in this world. More than likely our parents and other relatives don't understand us or were abusive to us. We were made fun of in school, we lived double lives, etc., etc. We all have our own emotional baggage to deal with. We put up defenses and walls to shield our all too oft broken hearts from more pain. We do it to protect ourselves but in the process we push anyone else away. As a result we're snappy, we're rude, we're fierce, we're cynical, we're jaded, 'we've created a fuck or be fucked, fuck that 'cuz I'ma get mine' world for ourselves and yet the better part of us still expects to be happy. Even if someone means us well we don't believe it because we're simply not used to it.

So what are we gonna do about it? Actually, I can't tell you what to do. As I haven't done it myself yet. The question is what am I gonna do about it? The last few weeks have been really introspective for me. I've been looking inside, seeing what makes me tick, seeing why my relationships don't work. Let's have a look at my patterns:

ADAM'S RELATIONSHIP PATTERN:
This is so fucking embarrassing by the way, but I think this is a good exercise you should do for yourself in the privacy of your own home and not necessarily for the whole world to see like I have here. Remember, we can rationalize our way out of thinking that we have a problem as long as we only let it live in our heads. But once we put it on paper it's not as easy to deny. Here we go:

- Adam meets a guy.
- Adam is attracted to the guy.
- Adam does whatever he can to sleep with the guy.
- Adam sleeps with the guy and if he doesn't get to sleep with the guy he usually becomes disinterested in the guy altogether.
- Now Adam has feelings for the guy.
- Adam as usual feels a little more for the guy than the guy feels for him.
- Adam is now scared. These are the things Adam is scared of:

- Adam is scared to show too much emotion to the guy because he's afraid that he won't get it back and that will make him feel invalidated.
- Adam is scared whenever he calls or texts and does not receive a call or text back within the hour that maybe he's doing too much and the guy is over him.
- Adam has a perpetual underlying fear that the guy will just stop calling or corresponding altogether out of the blue because it's happened to him a few times in the past and it hurt... A LOT!
- Adam knows that he has done some triflin' ass shyt in the past and is always waiting for the proverbial ax to fall.

- Adam as a result of Adam's fear of being abandoned again is torn between wanting to outpour the feelings he's feeling to the guy or to be guarded and aloof (which he's really not but only is now as a result of being hurt so many times before) in an attempt to ready himself just in case this guy abandons him.
- Adam wonders why can't he ever find a guy who likes him as equally as he likes the guy.
- Adam has actually found people like that in the past but somehow to him it just doesn't seem real so he doesn't trust it or it may actually be real but if Adam is not physically and sexually attracted to the guy then it doesn't matter to him anyway.
- Adam does more and more to get the guy to like him and validate him but the guy never really gives Adam the pat on the back that he craves.
- Adam starts to get annoyed at the fact the that he goes all out of the way for the guy and he's still not getting the validation he wants. Mind you the guy never asked for all of this sacrifice from Adam.
- Adam is frustrated, at the end of his rope and ready to break things off but he doesn't want to be alone.
- Adam passively seeks out someone else to get with as insurance as he feels that him and this guy are about to be over.
- Adam snaps and breaks things off because the guy committed a minor offense against him that most people probably would have just dealt with or ignored but not Adam, he's way too hypersensitive to invalidation and is hurt by even the smallest, most insignificant slight at this point.
- Adam is alone again and moves in closer on the new guy.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat. This is my relationship cycle in black and white. Dayum I sound crazy as hell. I don't feel too bad though cuz most of y'all bitches is crazy too. I've dated some of you. Like I said I don't have an answer yet. I know that it's definitely me who needs work but then again with all my emotional baggage flung across my shoulder I could be attracting the wrong type of men as well. I will look at this and look at my current dating situation and figure out exactly where I am on the cycle and figure out the best way to break the chain because I'm so tired of going through the same shyt over and over again. And I sure as hell do not wanna end up old and alone.

Like I always say "knowing is half the battle." Now that I have admitted publicly that I don't have it all together I can take steps toward trying to put me together. Like I said before I'm wounded, so before I can be a part of a successful relationship I have to love myself enough to heal me first so I can have something to give to someone else. So cliche, but nevertheless so true.

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Playing In The Background...
"What Is Love" (My Motha Effin Goin' Through It In A Relationship Theme Song)
by Vivian Green
from the album "A Love Story"
Check out my blog post on the Vivian Green concert I went to back in April. It has video and everything.
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 07:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

Happy Labor Day everyone. How are you celebrating? Are you at the beach or at a barbecue enjoying the last official weekend of summer? Well I hope you're having fun because I am at work laboring right now. Yipee! But anyway I had a story to tell...

My ex boyfriend and I, Mr. Man (as I have recently have named him) met up on Saturday to discuss some business as we work on various projects together. After the breakup I told him that I wanted to remain friends. And I mean that for real, for real, not just as some bullshyt to say to soften the blow. As I talk to more and more of my friends I'm learning that for most people that isn't an easy feat. But I don't think of it as a big deal. I'm amicable with like 95% of my exes (read more about that in this post). Maybe I'm just different.

After he called me on Saturday morning to reconfirm our meeting that afternoon I ended up calling him back to tell him about the new Britney Spears song ("Gimme More"). We are both music freaks! At the end of that conversation he said:

"You are just gonna be my friend aren't you?"

He said it in a tone that said that 'I was really gonna continue to speak to him like I normally even though we just went through the weirdness of a break up', I wasn't bullshitting. To that I give a resounding yes! For me breakups don't have to be all weird and crazy. We're both adults, the past is the past, let's just pick up the pieces and move on. It's how I deal with things. I was talking to a friend about this kinda thing yesterday and he told me as a few people have that he wishes he could be more like me in that regard. Honestly, I don't feel as though I'm doing anything special. I just refuse to waste time on feeling weird and avoidance and all that mess that goes along with a break up. Life is way too short and precious for that.

We even got into a discussion about out Friday night dates which went well for the both of us. We compared notes and laughed about it like friends, how we were in the first place before mushiness and relationshippy shyt came along and complicated things. It's weird but I feel like Mr. Man is way too important to me to be of a romantic interest. I tend to place much more value on friends than boyfriends and dates. Dates are cool, sex is great but it's here today, gone tomorrow. I have much better and longer lasting relationships with my friends. Even though it won't be easiest thing in the world (for normal people more than for me) I'm glad were friends today. Hopefully that can continue tomorrow and the day after that. We'll take it one day at a time.

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Playing in The Background...
"Free/Sail On"
by Chante Moore
from the album "A Love Supreme"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 07:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

I've slept with a good amount of my friends. But it's not what you're thinking... they didn't start as friends. For some reason the gays get together and when things don't work out between them they pretend as though each other never existed, how mature? That leads to awkward stare, look away, stare, look aways at common homosexual meeting places such as clubs, Greenwich Village, Chelsea, really anywhere in Manhattan below 23rd, Harlem, etc (read more about my awkward encounters with exes in this post). I've always tried to end things as amicably as possible with my exes and it usually works out with us becoming really good friends, not right away though, usually after at least a few weeks of not speaking. I guess you would consider that processing time. Sometimes the resulting friendship works out so well that we even wonder how we ever had sex. The other night was definitely a shining example of that.

I was walking to the bus stop from the gym and I got a phone call from who for our purposes here we'll call Friend #1:

"What you givin'?"

"What you takin'?"

"Bitch, where you at?"

"I'm on the corner of (my location) waiting for the bus. I just came from the gym. What's up? What you doin? Where you stayin' at again?"

"I'm at (his location)."

"Oh aight, that's four blocks away. You want me to come meet you?"

"Yeah."

So we met up and walked a few blocks and then we settled on stoop in front of a school. I hadn't seen him in almost a year as he had just moved back to New York from a stint elsewhere. We sat there and talked and then we went to Central Park and sat by Harlem Meer (thankfully there was only one small raccoon this time [click here to read about my run in with the Central Park raccoons]) and talked some more. As he talked and I looked at his eyes and his lips as they moved and I thought that while yes I still find him attractive he is really my good girlfriend now. All the sexual attraction to him just like all floated away somewhere. I had no nasty thoughts, my dick didn't move,  I didn't even flirt, I just listened to everything he said. It's weird, it's like I couldn't even imagine us in a sexual place again. He ended up walking me to my next friend's house. We'll call him Friend #2.

Now me and Friend #2 never had a quote-unquote "relationship". We met online about a year and a half, or two years ago, we lost and then got back in contact with eachother like six months later, from there we had a few intense online and phone conversations. We finally met up to hook up about a year ago. I remember taking that long ass train ride from East New York, Brooklyn to Harlem at two in the morning to meet him. Shiiiit, I never traveled that far for a piece of ass before... well there was the trip to Florida, and that time to Delaware (that is one ol' blog post right there) but who's counting, right? Anyway I got the ass, it was good and worth the trip and I ended up staying the night. This happened a few months before I made the move to live Harlem myself.

Unfortunately though I must have gotten the wrong impression from our phone and internet conversations because I put forth the effort to get to know Friend #2 better. My effort was met with unanswered phone calls and instant messages. The player got played, "Boomerang"-style. I was pissed, when I finally got to him online about a week or so later I told his ass off. The conversation online went something like this:

Friend #2: I'm sorry but, we could be friends.

Adam: Friends, this is how your treat your friends. I don't wanna be your friend!

Friend #2: We're gonna be neighbors soon.

System message: User Adam is no longer signed on.

Yeah, I went off like that... In retrospect I see that that was so NOT cool and not in accordance with the laid-back, aloof vibe I usually give. After going off on Friend #2 online we didn't talk for another seven or eight months.

One night last winter after I had been living up here in Harlem for about four months I get an IM. It was from Friend #2 asking me how was I, how I had been doing, etc., etc., etc. We ended up exchanging numbers and he told me why he ended things with me so abruptly. It was because he was talking to someone else at the time we hooked up and our meeting was basically the last fling before things got serious between them. I was like the stripper the bride sleeps with at the bachelorette party. Keep in mind though that at that present time they were still together. But what he didn't know was that I already knew who his boyfriend was. Friend #2's boyfriend tried to talk to me a few weeks prior and with the help of my friend we put the pieces together. Just to be clear I had NO interest in his boyfriend whatsoever, I'm not attracted to him at all, he was a fellow top (ewww, yuk!) and he was an asshole, well he was drunk that night but nevertheless an asshole. In an effort to not be messy didn't bother imparting that little tidbit.

After that conversation all was well between us and we became really good friends. We both worked in Midtown so every so often we would get together during our breaks and have "Sex And The City"-esque lunches, discussing our lives and current romantic situations. We'd actually grown fairly close on a platonic level but I still felt like I could hit it if I wanted to. The other night was our first chill session at his house and by this time him and his boyfriend had broken up. Now if I was gonna try something this was certainly the time. If I were evil enough just to fuck him for spite I had my golden opportunity, but fortunately for all the citizens of our planet, I'm not that evil.

We met up and all we did was talk. He told me about his current romantic situation, well really the lack thereof and how that came about. I regaled him with my current drama (ie the "pending litigation" I alluded to in this post) and it was nice to see that someone else agreed with me. Thank God for normal people. But anyway, throughout all our time together I realized that if I wanted to push the sexual envelope I could have. There was a room with a bed (like I really need a bed to have sex). But I really didn't want to. I realized the value of Friend #2's friendship and getting my nutt off wasn't that serious to me anymore. What the fuck? Did I just say that?

Am I actually growing up?

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Playing In The Background...
"Violet Stars Happy Hunting"
by Janelle Monae
from the album "Metropolis"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

One of the coolest things about being gay is that you eventually get to tell people about it and laugh at the expressions on their faces and their awkward dead silences. That is, after you've cried and prayed and prayed and cried and contemplated suicide and have finally accepted it yourself. Anyway, as you have read my 24th birthday party was a "coming out" party of sorts to a lot of my straight friends who have known me from back in the day. One of those people was Kelly Robinson (that ain't her real name) who I went to junior high and high school with. She's known me from when I was thirteen years old, the apex of my awkward youth up until I was eighteen, right when I started cultivating my sexy and becoming the love machine you see before you today.

Kelly was the love of my thirteen year old life. I had the biggest crush on her (and this other boy in my school) and I'm not really sure why. She was pretty, she was popular, but she wasn't really very nice to me now that I think about it. She wasn't malicious but she treated me the same way Laura Winslow treated Steve Urkel. She was cool with me and liked me as a person, but now that I think about it was probably was annoyed by my constant romantic overtures, which probably came off as a little mean at times. Like Laura and Steve we were friends, I guess, in a roundabout way but we were never close, close. I remember the guys she used to go out with, one of them was a real jerk (we'll call him Boy #2). I remember he used to pick on me at times back then (If I saw him today I would so kick his ass!). Not only did he pick on me but he didn't treat Kelly so well either. I would have been a much better boyfriend. Toward the end of the eighth grade I started getting over her and kinda thought she was a bitch (sorry Kelly you know I love you gurl). By the time I transferred into her high school when I was sixteen all my romantic feelings toward her had dissipated and it was all about the boys by then.

A few months back I found her via MySpace. I sent her a message basically saying "Hi, how are ya?" and giving her a very general update on my life. I didn't include the whole gay thing, this was her reply back:

"My my my how you have changed so much from the Adam in 218"

Our junior high school was IS 218, here in Brooklyn, NY. I guess me changing refers to me being all grown now and I'm sure all the shirtless pics on my MySpace didn't hurt. And I said:

"yeah, we've all gotta grow the hell up some time... lol"

I sounded so cool typing that, you gotta admit that shyt was cool. I typed that in my deep, Billy Dee Williams sexy voice, sexy, but still nonchalant. That lol, that was actually a light sexy chuckle. Then she said:

"It seems like a good grow up though"

Say what! Did I read that shyt right? Did Kelly Robinson just flirt with ME? Me, Adam Irby, the boy who loved her in junior high school, the boy she gave NO PLAY to back in the day. At that moment I was brought back to the eighth grade. I thought about how cool I woulda been if Kelly Robinson were my girlfriend back then. I wanted to flirt back just to see how far it would go but then I remembered, oh yeah, I'm gay, I almost forgot there for a second. And besides I had no sexual interest in Kelly anymore, she's a nice girl and everything but... nah. Maybe we go shopping one day or something.

Kelly and I kept in contact via MySpace and would exchange pleasantries here and there. She finally gave me her phone number. At the end of eighth grade she wrote her phone number in my yearbook... only six digits though. Gosh she was a total bitch!(Sorry Kelly you know I still love you gurl!) What did I see in her? Anyway, I called her and in that conversation I ended up inviting her to my birthday party and of course I told her that it was being held at my boyfriend's apartment. All she said was "okay", kinda the same way Brendan (my straight male friend) did. I have to admit that I was taken aback by the fact that she had nothing to say about my being gay. Had she sensed it all along?

Unfortunately, Kelly couldn't make it to the party. I sent her and anyone else who couldn't make it to the party a link to my blog post about it via MySpace. This was her reply back:

"...I remember when u told me on da phone dat ur boyfriend was planning ur party...n da first thing I said was since when is Adam gay...he had a crush on me. Sweetie...y didn't u jus tell me that u were gonna go da other way if I didn't date u...I wud've given u da chance u deserved lmao..."

Then she went on to say:

"...I had great taste back then didn't I. Boy #1 and Boy #2...I'm not sure who ws the bigger idiot lol. U kno Boy #2 was transfered 2 my H.S. and made my life a livin hell."

Then she went on to ask about my boyfriend:

"...what's he like? How did u meet? how long have u been gay? how long have u been together? and any other mushy stuff u wanna throw in there lol."

Wow, she said she would have given me the chance I deserved. There you have it, total and complete vindication. And she admitted Boy #2 was an asshole, because he so was! I never replied to her MySpace message. I've just  super busy since then. We talked before about meeting up one day and catching up. but you know it's one of those things you say you're gonna do but you never really intend to actually do it. I'm sure it's that way on both of our parts. If we never see or hear from or speak to each other again I have everything I need right here. Thanks Kelly.

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Playing In The Background...
"Mr. Radio"
by Chrisette Michele
from the album "I Am"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)