Archives for posts with tag: Dating

Breakfast with the beautiful Dane.

We stepped out of the restaurant for a moment to smoke and a young woman approached me.

She said, “I saw you on the show.  You’re very brave.”

I felt like a total fraud.

I wanted to tell her that since the show I have broken every rule, every principal I had ever committed or adhered to.   These past few moths I have run roughshod over all the progress of the past 13 years.

I feel like I am at square one.

Sure I didn’t drug or drink.  Sure it was brave of me to reveal myself on TV…but look at the trouble it has caused.  I let myself succumb to the vagaries of love.  With a chimp.

The beautiful Dane wanted to know what she was talking about.  I told him.  I suppose now he’ll see everything.  I wonder how he’ll feel about it?   Time will tell.

I love talking with him.  We talk and talk, his stories are riveting and compelling.  This is more like it.  He’s only 33.  Suddenly we are surrounded by people we know.  Friends we know rather than he or I.

Feel comfortable, relaxed and happy.

So happy I begin to cry, my nose stings, my eyes fill with tears.  I think about what Jon said when I first got sober in SAA.  He asked me to imagine what a relationship ‘looks like’ I cried then too.  I just didn’t think it was possible.  A healthy relationship with a healthy, kind man.  Then, by way of alcoholic sabotage, I proved to myself and the whole world that I was incapable of making good choices.

Enter The Penguin.  Exit The Penguin.

I am so happy to be in the bosom of AA.  Surrounded by men and women whose language I respect, whose journey I relate to.  Listen, there could be an argument made that every relationship I have ever had (except Matt) has been with active alcoholics/addicts.

Last night, after the poetry reading, I walked the dog…wrote this blog and went to bed.  I woke at 6am to arrange the apartment for the return of the decorators.   After our rather wonderful breakfast I caught a cab to JFK and am now on a plane to an undisclosed location for a couple of weeks in the sun.

I may have been brave (I was brave) when I told you all the truth about my childhood suffering but the consequences of being on that show have been very severe.  I would never in a million years have met or absconded with, danced with, dillied or dallied with that terrible man.  I would have remained ignorant of his ugly face, his dishonest world.  I would never have worshiped his stinking hole or kissed his lying mouth.

I would certainly never have risked losing my sobriety.  I came THIS close!

I would rather be single than take those risks again.

What does a relationship look like?  I don’t know if it exists.   Not because I am unworthy but because the damage has been done.   If only you could see it on my face like a burns victim.  If only you could see the ravages of child abuse on my face.

A relationship?  The damage maybe too severe.  I have to look at it like that.  The war is over but I am limbless, traumatized, impotent, angry.  There is nothing I can do other than STAY AWAY from normal human beings who say they love me.

They just can’t see.

They think I am healthy, able bodied, sane.  Until they uncover the truth.

For the time being I will stick to my own kind.  I am never lonely with my own kind.  I never have to kid myself when I am with my own kind.   My own kind never try and kid me.  They treat me carefully.

What does a relationship look like?  Well, it’s me, myself and I.   That’s all I can hope for.

That’s all I will ever need or be able to depend upon.

Remember, if you meet me, that I am covered in the most terrible scars inside and out.   You should think twice about getting involved.  Alcoholics seem to see the scars and hold out their hands so I can walk proudly amongst you…but don’t be deceived.

I am not what I am.

The huge hedge of Bougainvillea that separated the house from the garden is all but gone.  It has taken Robby and me two days to chop it down and cart it to the compost at the end of the drive.   The house now feels as it is floating above the forest of specimen trees and succulents.  Uninterrupted views all the way to the hot tub and the drive.  More importantly, as one enters the garden, the full glory of this house, this post and beam gem can be fully appreciated.

On Sunday, after my AA meeting and wander around the Palisades Farmers Market,  Anna popped by.  We ate a particularly foul, tasteless lunch at the newly refurbished Malibu Inn (at my suggestion) and then we walked the length of the Malibu Pier which, I am ashamed to say, I have never done.

It really is very beautiful.

Nicely decorated shops and restaurants, fisherman (mostly Mexican) fishing on both sides.  A seal lazily swam on it’s back looking up at us.  The water around Malibu is teaming with life.  Seals, Dolphins, Whales.  At the end of the Malibu Pier are two elevated rooms which might be perfect for hiring.  I suddenly thought that rather than have a birthday party at my house this year I would have my party there.  What do you think?  I didn’t celebrate last years mile stone so this is maybe a perfect opportunity and location.

Whilst in the Malibu Inn the beginning of a rather bizarre incident began to unfold.   One that caused some consternation later on that evening.  A rather jolly, good-looking young man handed me his number.  A usual occurrence here in LA.  Especially if one has been on TV.  Whilst serving us he had overheard Anna and I talking about the entertainment industry.  I took the number and we started texting, agreeing to meet after he had gotten off of work at 7pm.  I asked if he had a car and if he could get up here or if he needed to meet on the PCH.

When he arrived at the house (shrouded in marine layer) we chatted for a few moments, whilst chatting he must have received at least 10 calls from his parents wanting to know where he was and when he was coming home.  “Perhaps you had better go.”  I said.

We continued our conversation regardless.  He wanted, of course, to be an actor.  An actor who wants to be in action films.  He mentioned that he had thought about modeling.  He is a great looking guy but, I told him, maybe a little too short for modeling.  He told me that he needed money to finish his tattoo and move out of his house.  He wanted to be free of his family.   I sympathised and told him to work harder at Malibu Inn.  When young men start talking about how much money they need I disconnect.

Then, I noticed that there was someone looking at us.  A man on the terrace looking in.

I opened the door and there was a man (my age) with a friendly looking German Shepherd and asked him what he wanted.  I noticed another person scurrying up the path.  A woman with long black hair.

He said gruffly, “I’ve come to collect my boy.”

I demanded an explanation.  He explained sheepishly, losing some of his bravado, that he was the young man’s father and rather than the young man having driven himself to the house as he had implied, his father had brought him.   I suddenly felt rather set up.  As if I was part of something that had been planned rather than being as spontaneous as I had first thought.

“Why didn’t you come in?”  I asked him.   “Rather than skulking around the garden.”

“You should conduct business meetings in your office.”  He chided.

“This wasn’t a business meeting.” I snapped.  “It was personal.”

I asked the young Malibu Inn man if he was OK and he nodded, his face reddened with embarrassment.  I asked his ‘father’ if everything was OK.

“For the time being.”  He said.  The inherent threat was not lost on me.

They left.

I heard them stall their cheap car on the steep drive, spinning their tires on the damp concrete.

My next door neighbour Jerome was in so I stopped by and told him what had happened.   The more I thought about it the more I realized that this may very well have been some sort of opportunistic venture on their behalf.  They must have thought that being a self-proclaimed sex addict that I would ‘try’ something.  Not realizing that I only really respond to sexual advances rather than initiate.

I suddenly felt quite vulnerable.

Thankfully the twins arrived home.  It was a spooky night, the man emerging from the mist.  The strange boy who needed $150 to finish his tattoo of a skull in the shape of a dollar sign.

Spent most of Monday taking down the last of the Bougainvillea.  Breakfast on the PCH.  Dinner with friends.

Keeping what is in effect a public diary can have it’s glories and it’s defeats.  Ups and downs.  Well, we have all recently witnessed the downside.

When Jennie K was having a hard time with crazy stalker monsters contacting her she turned off her comments option.  I am considering doing the same.  What I realize now though is just how much the comments mean to me.  I enjoy that so many of you check in with me every day and it is those people who I imagine when writing this blog.

I have been thinking about the comments by Tres Triste.  It is most odd that he/she insinuated that I take down the pictures of Jake.   I mean, why should I? I have pictures of most of my friends in this blog.  He was not only my friend but also my lover.  The only reason that I hadn’t posted pictures of him before was that I had effectively climbed into his closet.  When I crawled out gasping for air I realized just how manipulated I had been.

It’s odd to think that someone who supposedly doesn’t know Jake would consider it an affront to his dignity to have his pictures on my blog.  Our holiday pictures.  I am guessing that Tres Triste thinks he would be ashamed to have his pictures associated with me.  Well, that may very well be the case but I am not buying into his shame.

30-year-old men are not children.  In fact, most 30-year-old men have children of their own.  They have responsible jobs.   They cannot claim to be naive adolescents.   They make decisions about who and what they want to do and then face the consequences of their actions.  As do I.

There is a beautiful line in the Stevie Nicks song Landslide that he might consider when he thinks about her, he could consider it..so might she.

“I’ve been afraid of changing because I built my life around you.”

Did you think I was thinking about Jake when I considered who or what I built my life around?  Well, I thought about drink and drugs and my lost daddy.  I thought about him too.

“I’ve been afraid of changing because I built my life around you.”

Every decision I take or make has a consequence.  It is up to me to think that through.  When he contacted me the outcome was clear.  When he kissed me he departed, once again, from his monogamous commitment to his girlfriend and would have to face a consequence.  We must never, ever underestimate the consequences of our actions.  Wether he was cheating with a woman or a man he was cheating.   As for him claiming youth as an excuse for his actions?  Honey, 29 is no youth.  Look at the lists of men killed in Iraq..most of them are younger than 29.

We are all naive about some things.  I was naive about Hollywood.  I was never naive about life tho.  I think I have always lived in the light.  It was his desire to crawl back into secrecy that finally made me ditch him.

I have no truck with secrets.  You know everything because I want it to be that like that.

There are moments when I think of him..but not in any way other than one might miss a drink after being a heavy drinker.  We had communicated almost every day in some way since we first met.  He is in the fabric of my being.  He rested in my most sacred heart for many months.  I am slowly washing that man out of my hair.

I was his most ardent supporter, his rock when he needed me.  I was on his side. I thought I could be there for him as he matured into an out gay man but I could not.  I regret having made that committment to him.

I return again and again to this question:  why didn’t he tell the truth sooner?

There is no reason in a liberal household in the modern world for a man not to be true to his nature.  To tell the truth about who he is.

It is a conundrum that has no end because only he can answer that question.   Frankly I am not interested, any longer, in anything he has to say about anything…so…I am left with the question.

I am left with the Manhunt account too.  It amuses me but I must tell you I am a little bit too eager to see who and what messages have been left for me.  A little bit too eager to meet new men and a little a bit too eager to revisit the site again and again.

Must keep this in check.  The paths wont get swept if I don’t.

I write every morning just before I start my day.  Presently I am looking over the ocean in Malibu. It is going to be a beautiful day.  Yesterday I swept and hosed the drive and the paths.  I wanted the garden to look beautiful for Jenny A who is presently staying in the guest apartment below.

I spent almost all of yesterday pottering around the garden, scrubbing the terracotta tile in the gazebo, weeding and generally decluttering the house.  I have a different attitude to being here since I last lived here.

Jenny arrived and we walked down to the new road with the dog.  We came home and Eric arrived for dinner.  We lit a huge fire and listened to Herbie Hancock and drank English tea.  I cooked and everyone went to bed.  It was simple.

We discussed Jenny’s cancer.  She was only given a 38% chance of living.

She said, “They gave me ten years to live.  Of course, that was five years ago..now I want another five years..”

Jenny saved my life.  It was she who I called this week 14 years ago to tell her that I couldn’t stop doing coke. It was she who took me to my first meetings and it was she who eased me into the recovery community.  I will always be thankful for that.

Our relationship has had its ups and downs.  We didn’t talk for two years after having a huge fight on a dusty road in Mexico but true friends always come back to each other.  Eventually.

I have known Susan since I was 13 years old.

We used to giggle together in Quaker meetings and she and her wonderful family became the mainstay of my adolescence.

For her, I will always have a place in my heart.

She called me today from Oxford, where she lives, and we chatted for an hour or so about our lives.

It was so reassuring to hear the voice of an old friend who, even though we have only dipped periodically in and out of each others lives, as the decades passed we maintained a life long love for each other.

It was wonderful to catch up and maybe she will come visit me here in LA.

As you are aware I have still not made any definite plans to deal with the lumpy ball tumor situation.

I have been avoiding doing anything about it.

The emotions I have been going through with Jake seem to take my mind off the critical decisions I have to make.

The bottom line is this:  I must go to London and sort it out.

I can’t afford to begin the surgery here and so have no option but to go home.  As soon as I move out of my place I can think clearly about taking the next step.

I reread JB’s letter this morning and feel a little less angry with him.  He is not a monster, more like a confused kid.

I have to learn to be more compassionate.  I have to learn to forgive.  I MUST remember that he has been through a great deal.  Anyway, I did as he asked and removed all mention of his last name and occupation.  It was kinda cruel to have done it in the first place.

I have had an online tantrum and now it’s time to try to put the pieces of the smashed vase back together and hope that we can go our separate ways without derision, scorn or hatred.

I have said and written things that although true were insensitive and unkind.  He is just a regular guy with a broken heart.  He wasn’t to know that being friends was the last thing I could ever imagining happening after we stopped being lovers.

Resentment, shame and fear (as usual) shape my relationship to the rest of the world.

This morning I tried to be of service to another recovering addict.  It made me feel a great deal better about my own situation.

I really, really loved and cared for that timid man.  He was quite unlike anyone I have ever loved before.  Everyone that met him was delighted that I had found such a normal, sweet man.  I think that we had, when we weren’t fighting the best time.  We laughed a great deal.  We shared a number of the same interests and in a perfect world where two unencumbered men could come together, unfettered and unaligned we could have made something work out.

It is not a perfect world.  It is an imperfect world riven with complications and aberrations.

It seems that only the very few get to share their lives with those they love without catastrophic problems.   I wish I could be one of those people but I am not, I will never be, I can never be.

That is why I committed to being single.  To being alone.  To relish and respect a single life.

I am a single man who will not hanker after my own death… because being single is perceived by so many as a crime against humanity.