Virus

Growing up and attending elementary school, there were three different viruses you were to avoid. The first virus is you have the most common one: the common cold. You get it at least once a year and you feel like absolute crap. You deal with green snot, a groggy voice, and an attitude problem that has the ability to get you grounded quicker.

The second virus is lice. As we grow into adults, we deal with the possibility of getting crabs; but that is a totally different story. If a kid has lice, you were to avoid them at all costs, unless you were in dire need to get a hair cut. You end up taking three showers that day, as your mom uses the small toothed comb that makes your hair scream for mercy as it picks up each gross louse egg on your follicles.

Then finally, you get the chicken pox. This virus brings spots to your body for a week's time and makes you into a quarantine case. You are stuck with mother, watching her Oprah and Passions with nothing planned except the oatmeal bath before bedtime. Sure you occasionally spoiled with food and sitting in the front seat of mom's volvo, but at the same time, you are still not allowed to have a social life; unless your mother knows a kid that has never gotten the chicken pox. Which later leads to you playing with them, exposing the kid to the virus and damning them to a week of isolation.

As you grow up, you deal with other viruses. But sometimes these viruses might not attack you physically, but rather emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. Like the childhood viruses, they can leave you feeling isolated.

If you read my previous blog Get Naked, then you already know that Jeff and I have gotten to be friends again; however, this time, I am the one that is stronger and able to be his friend without reading into anything. We went to Pride together as we both saw some familiar ex's that totally screwed us over, met some new hotties, and engourged ourselves in food. It felt good having my best friend back in my life. It was like having that breath of fresh air, being able to talk openly about our ex's and our hook ups without having any ties to each other. Then suddenly out of nowhere, our friendship had caught the deadliest virus. And I fear that I might have to pull the plug on it.

I don't know how to explain it, but he has been avoiding me. For reasons unknown. He did this before, then he told me that he was engaged. He was going through his drama, I told him I would be there for him and that I promise to be there when times are rough for him. Well, times are getting rough for me and he is nowhere to be found. This is not the first time that this has happened either. He has a habit of ditching me and making it all about him.

I am not holding any romantic ties to this guy nor am I trying to make a big deal out of it. But one thing that I do know that bothers me is that he is taking advantage of me. Of all people that I have to cut myself from...it has to be him. And people that like to fuck with me like that get dropped really fast. Like faster than popping a pill to make the pain go away.

My entire life has all been about trying to impress other people and completely forgetting about myself. I would let people take advantage of me because it give me the temporary relief that people like me. Up until recently, I declared my own independence and made a vow to not let people take advantage of me like that again; and if people are going to play me like that, I would drop them faster than biohazardous gloves. And now, like Buffy had to do to Angel in the end of the second season, I must end it with him.

He is a virus. Something that if not taken care of, can eat at me until there is nothing left. It happened before with my own thoughts, my thoughts became a destructive virus that left me believing in the world of my own creativity rather than what is being told in front of me. And now that I have a grip on my own life and story, I am going to take charge.

Hop, Skip, Get Naked

Live. Love. Be. The theme of Pride this year. It's interesting to see how much I have grown after a month of being independent and waking up from my Jeff-Pablo romance story I was writing in my head. I am not the writer of that story, God is. And so far, I know that Jeff is my best friend. The men I meet, date, and befriend will never compare to my love that I will have for Jeff.

I was hanging out with my new guy Matt Friday night, the eve of the San Diego Gay Pride Parade. We had crashed a party two houses away from his. This house, and the host, made me feel like I was in a gay version of The Great Gatsby. Matt was the new guy from Nebraska, I was Daisy, the flapper. I am "cheating" on my husband by hanging out with the man in West Egg.

Upon entering the house, we were greeted by the host, who offered us to go to the backyard if we wanted to get naked. Being curious, we went to the backyard, hoping to see an orgy going on; however, to our surprise, the only thing that was getting naked was the cooler. The cooler had a sign on it that said: "Hop, Skip, Get Naked." It was a suicide drink comprised of lime juice, vodka, and beer. I was already buzzing after the vodka tonic that Matt made me at his house, having three of those drinks brought the happy buzz in me.

After eating half the food, being begged by the host's gay dog for our food, and drinking three glasses of the Naked suicide drink, we began to make our way to Rich's. I was on the VIP list and can dodge the entire line. It was an amazing plus because I had to pee really bad. When we got inside, we had to fight the crowd to get to the main dance floor to the bathroom. The main dance floor was packed, you could not touch the floor without stepping on a shoe!

Matt and I began to dance. He is the only guy that works as hard as I am with dancing. The music was okay, it didn't grab my adrenalin like DJ Nikno does. While dancing, I looked over my left to see Jeff dancing by himself. I make my way over to him and hug him. It was good to see him making the moves of letting go of his fiancee and moving with his life, something that took me until recently to do. Matt asked me who that was, I told him that that is my best friend. "I would give my left kidney for this guy."

As we were dancing, and Matt was avoiding eye contact with me, I began to look for Jeff. Don't worry, I wasn't going to weave another love story out of it, I just wanted to see how he was doing. He was on one of the podiums, dancing by himself. Eyes scanning the bodies looking for someone hot to dance with, but with no luck.

As we left the club and I dropped Matt in front of his apartment, I invited him to meet me at Pride tomorrow and to text me when he is awake. I was driving off back home, I texted Jeff and told him that it was really good seeing him at the clubs and was hoping to see him at Pride tomorrow.

Driving down the 15. Contemplating my now-questioning feelings for Matt, since all he does with me is put up an emotional wall for me to break through. From behind, I see the familiar headlights of Jeff's car. He speeds up to where I am at and I look over to see his smiling face, telling me to pull over at the next Denny's.

When we meet, I make my way over to him. Happy that I was on a date and that I had finally overcome my feelings for Jeff. I ask him how he is doing, and he just says "I need a hug."

I hug him as he tells me how lonely he is feeling. How he just feels like he is losing it. When he saw me at the club, he was fearing that I will start to not talk to him anymore. How he is just going to spend his days lonely, regretting how things are turning out between us. I began to hold him close to me, telling him that he will ALWAYS have me, I distance myself for my own sake because I don't want to get hurt anymore. I wanted to hang out with him this week, but still felt like I needed to recover. I need my space right now.

My heart was breaking for him. I was in the same spot when we broke up, yet here I am still here for him. When he was telling me what was going on in his mind, I was fighting back tears because my heart was overwhelmed by what he was feeling. I don't ever want Jeff to be in that spot where I was in. It was dark, it was lonely, it almost killed me.

It's funny how the more progress I am making with my life, the more I realize how I am still in the same spot that I will always be in: hopelessly in love with this guy and wanting more. Jeff is realizing that things between us will never be the same again. I will not always be hanging at every word anymore. I am going to move on with my life and if he wants to go after me, he is going to have to pursue me like everyone else. I am not going to make it easy for him, because the last two times I let that happen, I ended up hurt. I want him to know that he needs to prove that he wants to be there for me and not feel like he doesn't have to try with me. Because, according to the polls of all my boyfriends, I am a catch and a hottie, I am not going to let people take advantage of that.

Point of Impact

I went to have fun. To let loose and to allow myself to not worry about the consequences the next morning when I am tired, grumpy, and hating every kid that comes to my park. There was so much activity at the bar, why didn't I stay?

I was dancing by myself when this guy approached me. We danced, we did the normal things people do when they want to hook up. He told me I am hot, I returned the compliment. He was drunk. We were set on hooking up. We left together in my car to his place. Forty-five minutes later, I dress myself and walk out the door, showing myself out of the apartment.

I arrive at my truck and begin to cry. Flashbacks of my past began to flood my head, overwhelming me. I can't believe I let myself do that again. I began to feel my self-worth just fall to the ground like a falling star. The sudden moment of impact was when I was hit with my past hitting me. I am not talking about my past hookups, lovers, or boyfriends; I am talking about the last time I was raped.

It was on a March 25th. I was attending a make-up class to be a certified counselor for the Billy Graham Crusade. I was leaving to go home. I approached my beat up Toyota Tercel, jingling the keys around as I loom closer to my car. I stick the keys in my car and felt satisfied that I was responsible for following through with something. Then I feel a cold tip of a knife on my neck. I look in the rearview mirror to see a dark figure in the backseat, holding onto me.

"We can either play this my way, or the hard way." He said, pushing the knife into my skin.

"Okay!" I replied with a hyperventhilated tone of pure panic. "What do you want?"

"Drive."

I begin to drive,, the knife still on my neck. He tells me to turn on an empty parking lot. I turn into the desolate parking lot. There was two lightposts there. To my misfortune, only one of them was working.

He tells me to park my car in the opposite corner of the enterance. When I parked the car, my mind began to race in wonder of what was going to happen to me.

"Get out." He demanded as I got out of the car. He follows me out. "Pull down your pants. You make a sound, you will fucking regret it."

I felt like I was being ripped apart. Not only was my body in pain as he was raping me. My body being pushed against my own car and his dick, but my soul was in complete anguish. The only thought that was racing in my head was how I was going to tell anyone about it. If I was going to tell anyone. I didn't tell people the real story about myself until a couple years ago.

Now, I met this guy and we went back to his place. We began to take off our clothes and do the business. But naturally, my ass began to hurt and I told him I couldn't take any more. He first listened to me, but then he tried it again. I told him no. Then he tried it again. I told him to stop. He was drunk. Suddenly, images of my rape began to hit me. He tried it one more time, I forced him off me, got clothed and left.

Driving home, I listened to the sound of my engine roaring, my heart beating, and my soul breaking. I felt worthless. Like all I am ever worth is to be fucked. The only time I will experience someone's satisfaction is when they are inside me. I am single, victim to guys that like to emotionally rape me with their disconnected feelings.

The only thought in my head was that I wanted to talk to someone. I wanted to talk to my best friend. I want these thoughts to escape my head; however, I didn't want to word-vomit all this info just to make people feel sorry for me. But the only way that I can get over it is if I blog. And the sudden realization that I have to be at work in the morning... I don't want to be like this anymore.

I don't want to feel like the only good quality to myself is that I give good head, I am a very good kisser, and have a nice ass. I know I give good head, I know I am a good kisser, and I am puerto-rican, so I know I have a nice ass. I want people (especially my boyfriend[s]) to know that I am a person with a heart. It's been broken several times, but I am just as human as they are.

Permanence

Permanence. The final step in evolution. Settling in your new world after the sudden disturbing changes in your previous world. It's like being thrown underwater against your will. Upon the first instance, you are panicking, finding a way to breathe. You try to scream as the water begins to rise to the ceiling. You take one final breath as the water meets the ceiling. You go underwater and realize that you can breathe. You are going to be okay.

For the past two years, I was living under this mentality: believing that my world involved having a guy by the name of Jeff to help supply the oxygen. Yet, so far this year, the water in our romantic relationship began to enter the room, forcing me to find a new way to survive. Up until recently, I discovered that life can still continue. I can still breathe, it will take getting used to this new environment; but, I know that I will be able to survive.

However sometimes, we aren't placed under pressure to change. We aren't placed in heat or pressure to turn into something beautiful. Sometimes the permanence can take place over time. Something that I had thought was possible with Jeff. I found this out by going to my first gay wedding. As the two brides exchanged their vows, I could not help but think about how life may not get better or worse for them, they know that they at least have each other to help them through the hard times.

While I was there, I began to look into the future and picturing Jeff and his boyfriend's wedding. Understanding that if I am going to be his friend still, I would have to endure this with him. I began to ask myself if I am actually strong enough to deal with watching my friend make this same decision. Permanence can be changed sometimes; however, it will be the most painful change you can make. Not only because you are going back to your old life, but you have to rip yourself from the changes that were made in your system.

I returned back to the scene of the crime last night. The place where I met Robert for the first time. Numbers. Except this time, I had brought my lesbian friend Sam along. At first it was boring as hell, making conversation with each other, telling stories about how much we hate our boss while drinking blueberry Vodkas and Charger shots (my first liquor drink in a year). The night was dragging on and I was really starting to get annoyed. Annoyed by all the older guys hitting on me, annoyed by how the DJ in one of the rooms needed to go back to her senior home, annoyed that I was not having fun dancing with guys; however, all that changed when we went to the back room.

Unlike the other room, the back room was packed with so many people. You had to push your way through some of the larger folk, the straight people, and the not-so-good dancers to get to a good spot. I happened to have weaved my way, with Sam, in between the two podiums in the middle of the room. In front of me was an older guy that should really stop pretending that playing Dance Dance Revolution and dancing in real life are the same thing. The guys on the podium behind me were totally showing the other guy up. As I was busy rolling my eyes at the older guy on the podium, I looked dead ahead to see a guy that actually knew how to dance. Not only dance, but danced in the same way that I did. Moving his entire body. I begin to check him out, watching his moves. Then for some reason, might have been the alcohol, the lubido, or just my natural ways, but I started to dance with him.

Dancing with someone is very much like starting a relationship: you spend the first song learning each other's moves and patterns. Then once, you get comfortable, you are able to figure out how you both can get nasty without making the other feel awkward. After a while, I began to realize that I was getting such a workout dancing with this guy. He was pretty much doing the exact same patterns that I usually do. I began to feel myself evolve. Evolving from fearing Jeff walking into the room with his boyfriend, into being a person that really doesn't give a fuck anymore.

All three of us walked outside and began talking. We were talking about politics, careers, and how Sam and I knew each other. He was a recent graduate from a Catholic school in Nebraska and works with advertising and has some experience in film. As soon as he said the word "film" my interest peaked to the nirvana level. This guy is smart, has political savvy, and he knows film. Wow.

As he walked us to our car (I really should have driven in my own car!!!!), we exchanged phone numbers, kissed, embraced, and seperated. This time, unlike the other guys I have met (besides Jeff), I was watching him leave and could not help but smile the entire time he was leaving. Had God actually heard my plea for help and sent me this guy? If He did, I think I am a believer.

I had the biggest grin on my face. Smiling as I was watching him walk away, making occasional glances back at me to see if I was still checking him out....which I was. On the way back home, I realized that I had finally taken the big step of holding onto to something that was no longer there, into believing that I can actually survive in my new habitat: the single life. I mean I hope this guy is for real and wants to meet up with me, but if it doesn't happen, I know there will be more where that came from.

Evolutions: Botulism (part 4)

Botulism. Samonella. My nutrition teacher was a total germaphobe. She would scare us naive students with horror stories. At the grocery store, you should never buy meat and not put it in a plastic bag. The blood from the meat could spill on your foods and ruin it with various diseases. You should also never place your foods on a wet conveyor belt at the check out lines. You could risk exposing your food to old milk or other quickly expired foods that could put yourself at risk. Out of all these things, the one thing you should really never do is buy imploded cans. You risk getting something called botulism where it is a virus that kills your nervous system and if not treated, you risk paralysis. Plastic surgeons use botulism; however, it is used in minimal doses to paralyze the skin to prevent wrinkles: otherwise known as botox.

Like imploded cans, we can become imploded as well. Imploded with mixed emotions about people or about the events that are going on in our life. And in the grocery store of life, it is recommended to the shoppers to never buy the imploded types. Because they are called "damaged goods."

Is there a breaking point where we transition from the damaged goods aisle and into the premium goods? Or is there no hope for recovery from the botulism that has contaminated our goods?

Last night I recieved a text message from Robert's friends, inviting me to the clubs with them. They were going to the premiere of a new lesbian night at Numbers and were going to have a lot of girls with them. I told them I would go if they were going (a gay man going to a lesbian club? no thanks.). I ended the conversation with saying that I was going to rich's.

Bumping music. Flashing lights. Dancing go-go dancers. Beautiful bodies. Everything being a total blur. I join the sea of bodies, the sea of various emotions, the sea of various stories and begin to dance my problems away. I guess that's what some of us do at the club, move so much that the emotions and drama slide off us like fat on a grilled strip of meat.

I continue dancing. Knowing that I am just there to have fun, and whatever else happens...let it will be. Then, I look over to see Robert's friends there. And in the middle of the group was Robert himself. Inner rage burns inside me as I see him. I don't know if the rage was built on Rob being at the club, or if it was directed to Robert's friend, who knew that Rob would be there and just decided to let it slip.

He looked at me, but I was not going to make the first move. If I am the catch that people say that I am, then he should've been making his way over to me. Apologizing about being distant. But he didn't. That's what made me mad about him. Then his friend and I exchanged glances. I called him over to me. As soon as he came over to me, I begin to dance with him to make it not seem obvious that I was mad at him.

"Did you not tell me that Rob was coming so that you could set us up again?" I asked him.
He was drunk off his ass. He pulled me really close to his lips. He had drunk so much that I could practically smell what drink he had.
"He's been going through alot and is really wasted. Going through some family stuff and shit like that. I wouldn't be worried about it."

Well I was. Because I cared about him.

Rob's friend kisses me as he goes back to his boyfriend and Rob. I was still very angry. I have been dealing with a family crisis of my own. I have been dealing with finding out that the love of my life is getting married to someone else. I am dealing with being alone again. I am fighting my urges to create Jeff fantasies again for fear of going overboard and killing myself over my pain that I deal with day in and day out. Yet in spite of all this, I still smile, I still am friendly, I still am strong and can deal with it.

Rob began to dance with other people. Completely ignoring me. I realized: am I really in the damaged goods aisle? And if I am placed in this imaginary aisle, then why am I so much of a catch? I must be an imploded can of the best tasting goods, people see it and really want it; however, they were told to never buy an imploded can of damaged goods. Because although it may taste sweet, I am slowly killing you.

Why am I attracted to all the heartbreakers? All the boyfriends that I have, they have all found a way to really hurt me. Jeff disappeared and broke up with me. Paul was a guy that just couldn't do it right in any way (he was more of a rebound but I still count him). Steve was just bad in bed and expected me to carry all the weight. Jeff (part two) couldn't commit...go figure. And now Rob. Rob is a guy that expected a lot from me. I cared, and still now, about him. He was not only hot, but he was someone that had a good sense of humor and knew how to make me feel at home. But there was a defect in the goods that gave us an expiration date to the relationship. And it was the same as everyone else: they disappear and shut down.

As I was leaving the club, watching people walking by me, walking hand in hand, kissing affectionately, I couldn't help but get self-pitied. When am I going to be over this pain? When is things going to change for me? When am I going to wake up without pain over a lover? What does it take to get rid of the botulism that is in my system?

Pressure

Diamonds are a girls BFF. Give her a Zales diamond, or even cubic zirconium, they will be speechless (well until they crack the cubic zirconium to see that it's a sham and then they will after you). It has become the symbol for traditional marriages as a symbol of something that will never die. A diamond is one of the most strongest stones in the world. The only thing that can cut a diamond is a diamond itself. For most traditional marriages, it is the symbol of something that can never be torn apart; however, with the rate of successful marriages in today's world, it seems that the diamond can't hold two people together. No matter how many carats there are in that damn thing.

Diamonds are beautiful. Expensive. A real catch. But what I am mainly writing about is the process is how these beautiful stones are actually created. Intense Pressure and heat over a long period of time. They aren't made overnight, they take a while for these stones to be beautiful.

I ate at Panda Express recently and read my fortune from the cookies. It read: "The Path to Glory will be Rough, but well worth it." They better be right. I hate to brag, but this is one of the few analogies I can hold onto right now. The fortune and the diamond are one of the few things that is helping me deal with what I am experiencing right now.

For the past three days, I have been training my head to fight against my urges towards Jeff. Fighting my mind from creating another story. However, today, I had to break it and let it out. I felt like Willow in Buffy. Suddenly powerful in creating an entire story in a matter of moments and brain synapses. Yet, while I was mid-story, I stopped myself and began to think about something else.

Rob: Things were going good with him, then he shut down. It began with him flaking out, then not returning my calls, plus with realizing that I am doing most of the work in this relationship...yet again. I texted him the other day telling him to not bother calling me again. I have to call him, I have to drive over there. I don't want to end up like I did with Jeff: Depressed and suicidal for a long period of time. In the end, he was just like other guys that I tried dating to get Jeff out of my mind: the moment that you can invest your heart into them, they disappear.

Dad: My dad now has Type 2 Diabetes and Hepatitis. His entire life is going to be different and always watching his diet to make sure that he won't go into hypo/hyperglycemic shock. I don't want my dad to be like Julia Roberts in "Steel Magnolias." Whenever I look at him now, I don't see myself hating him; but rather, feeling pity and sympathy.

Jeff: Obviously getting married before the November elections that will decide if marriage will really be between a man and a woman in the state of California. Either way, Jeff will be married. That's my worry. I am not say this because I want him, I am saying it because he has never committed to anyone. He once told me: "I make a better friend than a lover." Being in a relationship for him makes him claustrophobic. If he gets married and wants to back out of it, it will take more than Jeff saying: "I can't do this" and it being over. It is going to take the power of an attorney, divorce papers, and lots of money. I don't want him to make a mistake and I have to hear about it. But either way, it is going to be something that is permanent. I want him to be happy and not in pain...the pain is my job.

Future: What does my future hold for me? If i am going to be a writer, is going through all this pain really necessary? God must be planning on making me into an incredible writer if He is asking me to experience so much at the same time.

But why do I cry? Why did I cry at work? Was it because I feel like I am damaged goods? Was it because I just feel like I am making a great big set of mistakes? I know I can be his friend because leaving him left me feeling so numb. Maybe I am just tired and need more sleep. I tend to get really analytical when I am tired (don't ask me how I do this).

But is all this pressure that is happening in my life, is it really going to help me in the end? Is it going to lead me to the goal/man/happiness that I am aiming for? Diamonds are made from the ugliest of coals and placed in extreme heat and formed under great pressure into a diamond. Will the same happen to me? Am I going to be all right? Because right now I feel like I am making too many mistakes and holding people up way too high.

Thanks for Sharing

No words could have described the pain that I was experiencing yesterday, feeling my world falling apart yet again. Feeling like Willow in Buffy the Vampire Slayer when stupid Warren kills her girlfriend just after they get back together. I wanted someone to feel my pain. I wanted some other form of pain so I would not focus on the anguish I was feeling.

As I was talking to my straight-gay wife about my problems, I was asking her to come hit me with a car. I told her I wanted to get in a fight. Anything to help me stop feeling the pain of losing my best friend, anything to help me move on.

I hate how I always experience emotional pain. Why I am always the victim of emotional pain, most of it's self-inflicted; but in any case, it is always revolved around one thing. My ability to create fiction in my head to help me handle hard times. The downsides to being a writer.

When I considered myself to be in a relationship with this guy, I created this whole story in my head that one day, if I am patient, he will one day ask me to be his boyfriend. I would be waiting like Carrie with Big. But as already mentioned, it was a fictional story that I had created to help me table that discussion while I deal with other things in my life such as: my dad being in the hospital, my financial problems, my job that sometimes makes me wonder why I even returned, and my search for Mister Right. But with me creating stories to help me table bigger problems in my life, I began to realize that it was not helping me in any way, but making things worse and more complicated. This all resulted in my emotional/anxiety/spiritual shutdowns that would occur whenever things were not going in the way that I wanted it. And all this was brought to my attention by one person.

I was on the phone with one of the many concerned friends calling me when one of my students from the water aerobics class that I teach in the mornings arrived to go over my script. I had my sunglasses on to hide my tears and anguish. She sat down and without hesitation, grabbed my hand and asked me what was going on. It took me two moments to word-vomit the entire story to her. And in return, she gave me some advice that I am using right now as I am writing this blog.

It's funny how a lesbian woman will give you the downright honest truth and how sometimes other close friends will give you advice that doesn't really work. I have known this woman for several years, she would come into lap swim back when I was in the closet. I would want to talk to her and her friend because they were lesbians and had some intuition that I could trust them. Now, several years later, they came into take my water aerobics class that I recently started up. Ever since then, I would tell them my little adventures in Hillcrest, about Jeff, and would also ask for advice. It's funny how life often gives you people when you least expect it.

She told me that what I just confessed earlier: that I create ficitonal stories in my head as a type of therapy to help myself through hard times. It's a bad habit because I end up believing the fiction rather than the fact that Jeff and I are over. So she told me to stop focusing on the past, stop focusing on creating the story of Jeff and Pablo and begin on other stories, like the story of Robert and Pablo (even though he is being a little weird right now). She told me to allow the voice in my head to get creative, but to not allow it to have a foothold in my life. And she gave me the solution to my problems with one three-phrase.

"Thanks for Sharing." Something to tell the voice in my head when I begin to feel a little feeling for Jeff. The voice in my head, if I let that feeling go to that part of the brain, will begin to create nostalgic, sentimental, and painful memories. So by saying: "thanks for sharing," will help me to redirect my focus on more important things: like my life and advancing myself towards better things.

I never realized how often I said it out loud. For example, one of my kids I was teaching this morning was talking to me, then suddenly, my mind started weaving a story about Jeff and I. Without even basking in that feeling, I uttered aloud "thanks for sharing" just as the kid stopped talking. It made me sound like such a dick. Like I really did no care what she even had to say. I mean yeah, it was pointless; however, I am not the type of guy to show apathy for a child's discovery in some minuscule idea. I ended up saying it so many times, people would get freaked out by me just talking and then stopping the conversation just to mention: "thanks for sharing." I explained my situation to my counselors when they were starting to wonder why I am suddenly saying it in front of them and in front of the kids. When I did, they were able to understand. But their first reaction to my little story behind it resulted in them being angry about how much of a jerk Jeff was to do all this to me.

Seriously, I am not mad at Jeff in any way possible. I am really happy for him. I am going to be fully supportive of his decision of finally finding someone that will make him happy and his decision to settle down with someone. I am not looking for pity with me writing these blogs (because I am writing these blogs to better myself and to keep people updated on what's going on in my life), nor am I looking for you to bash my best friend. If there's anyone that knows alot about this guy, it's me....well and his family and his friend Paul. After being his boyfriend and best friend for two years, I think I know how he works....well sometimes.

Today, I thought I would still be depressed and self-pitied. But when I woke up this morning, I got my clothes on, taught my class and my camps and was really energetic. I was hyper. I was a smart ass. I was normal, or at least I felt normal. Actually, to be honest, I don't think I have felt so strong and confident in my life. I gathered up the courage to end something and to be honest enough to finally realize my faults. Maybe I make more steps forward than I realized.

I called Jeff later on in the day to tell him that I am willing to be his friend and support him; however, I need to give myself time to recooperate and gather myself back together. I want to hear him talk about his future husband, I want to see him glow, I want to see him happy, and to show me that nice wedding band on his finger.

I am not looking for pity, nor am I looking for you to bash Jeff in any way. I am going to fully support his decision. I am like Hillary Clinton right now, I am here to fully support him in spite of my loss. Smiling and willing to see the changes in my life unfold. Realizing that one day, my prince will come too. And then I will be married as well. Married and hopefully (the only fantasy that I am allowing myself to toy with) will have Jeff still in my life to have his kids over and to gossip about the fat neighbors next door and to be called "Uncle Pablo." For my kids to call him "Uncle Jeff." Even though he is not related to me, he and I have such a close bond that I consider to him to be apart of my family.

Thanks for Sharing. Now time to refocus.