Month: March 2011

 

 

 

I guess it’s selfish of me.  I guess I can’t exactly expect guys to be dying to go out with me, considering that this site sort of forces me to live my life very publicly.  It’s funny – I’m always the last to realize the things other people find crucial, or  fundamental:  if you’re going to blog about your dating life, nobody’s gonna want to date you.

Remember that guy from the stuffed animal robot video?  The one who had no time, and didn’t want to kiss me?  I’ve had a crush on him for years.  For a good while.  I met him online, and he’s been on my iChat queue ever since.  I flirt with him a lot.  I try to make him feel good about himself.  I don’t exactly know why.

He almost never returns compliments.  He seems slightly angry a lot.  Or maybe he’s just annoyed at me.  He sure does treat me like I’m annoying.  That’s pretty regular.  So why do I always try to make him feel good about himself?  Why do I spend time trying to lift him up?  Why do I keep thinking that if I show him how I’d like to be treated,  he’ll eventually reciprocate?  Why?

Why, I don’t – I don’t do that anymore.  Not since he came to visit me on March 15th, at my work, on my birthday.

Me:  Thanks for being so patient.  I was a little busy there for a while.

Him:  Whatever.  I was fine.  I have to get going though.  It’s getting late.

Me:  Seriously?  We haven’t even gotten to talk.  Aw man…

Him:  I know.  But it’s late.

Me:  How are previews?

Him:  I’m here.  In one piece.  So…

Me:  I hear the audiences like it.

Him:  I’m so busy I don’t even notice.

Me: Okay, well, at least you’re opening soon.

Him:  What does that mean?

Me:  I don’t know?  Small talk?  Trying not to bring up my party tomorrow night.

Him:  I told you I can’t go.

Me: I know, you have a cast get together.  It sounds fun.

Him:  I’m glad you understand.

Me:  Did I say that?  I don’t understand, I just realize you’re not coming.

Him:  I have to do this get together thing with the cast.

Me:  I know, but can you imagine, I’ve heard of people doing two social engagements in the same night in New York!  It’s really easy – you just come to my party after the cast thingy.   You have one drink, and then you leave.  It’s called ‘showing up.’  People do it all the time.

Him:  Wow.

Me:  Not wow.  It’s been a long ass time since i fell for a guy, and I can’t have this.

Him:  This?  What?

Me:  This.  Whatever this is.  I can’t have it.  I can’t text you ‘what are you doing tonight’ and then have you answer the question three days later.  That’s the opposite of  ‘showing up.’  That’s being a jerk.

Him:  I was in tech last week.  I’m not good at communicating.

Me: No. You. Are. Not.  But that has to change.  We’re adults.  You’re an adult.

Him:  …

Me:  So you’re not going to consider coming to my party as well as your cast party?

Him:  It’s too much for one night.  We’ll hang out later.

Me:  It’s my birthday.  This is  – no.  I can’t have this.  I’m not this guy.  I shouldn’t have to beg you to hang out with me on my birthday.  This has to be stopped.  Here – I’m going to make this really easy for you, okay?

Him:  You’re going to make something easy?

Me:  HAHAHA!  You’re hilarious!  Why are you doing War Horse?  Come do comedy with me downtown.  Look.  Here’s the thing.  You don’t like me.

Him: I do like you.

Me:  You’re not into me.   I tell you you’re pretty, you roll your eyes at me when I tell a joke.  #notintome

You at this point, should not be able to keep your hands off me.  Instead we’ve had three sleep over dates and we fooled around on ONE of those.  #notintome

I ask you to kiss me and you say no.  #notintome

Him:  Stop it.

Me:  Stop what? I’m not judging you.  I’m making observations that lead me to a conclusion. #notintome

Him:  I mean, stop using hash tags outside of Twitter.

Me:  Wrong again.  That’s a thing now too.  People are totally doing it.

Him:  They are not.

Me: They are if I say they are.  The point is – You’re not ready to be dating me.  You should break it off with me.

Him: If you want to know the truth, that’s probably where I’m at right now with this whole thing.

Me:  See?  Thank you.  How adult.  We’re communicating.  This is great.

(pause.  I realize I mean it)

Me:  This is great, kiddo.  I don’t have to worry about you coming to my party.  Or acting bored while you’re there, or acting disinterested in me after it’s over.  This way, we can just be friends.  I can stop wondering how to make you like me, or what’s wrong with my approach.  It doesn’t matter any more, because you don’t want to date me.  That’s a relief.

Him:  Okay good.  I’m glad you’re being so cool about it.

Me:  It’s fine.  I like you.  It’s fine.  You’ll make a good friend.

Him:  Do you mean that?

Me:  No, but I’ll have something to complain about.

Him:  Michael, you’re a really great guy.  You’re very attractive, and you’ve got a lot going for you.

Me:  NOW you compliment me.  Jesus.  This guy.  What am I going to do with you?  Oh wait.  Nothing.

Him:  You’re going to find someone totally special.

Me:  That is sweet.  But you don’t understand.  I just realized.  I’m not dating anyone.  I’m not going to date anyone.

Except Everyone.  I might just date everyone.  Jerks.

 

Don’t ask me why.  People have started asking me questions: I’ll try to answer them respectfully.  Unless I don’t.  Please be aware that these are my opinions, and I’m a guy who photographs myself and my pals making pies semi naked.  Meaning:  I’m not a therapist or whatever.

Michael,

I need some boy advice.  I’ve been dating a guy for three and a half months.  Things are generally going well: we have an awesome time together, the sex is good, and I love him a lot.  We have a couple of problems, though.  The first is that our work schedules don’t match up so well, which makes it difficult for us to spend a lot of time together.  We have to try and plan so that we can hang out twice a week, and even then sometimes he’ll get called into work at the last minute.  The other problem is that he’s still going through the coming out process (as a bisexual – he’s only been with women before me), and him having one foot in the closet is causing a lot of issues.  When we hang out with friends who he’s not out to he’s overly distant because he’s worried they’ll think we’re together.  And he has a really machismo grandpa who came over once unannounced, and I was hidden away in his room alone for the visit.  Then when I got angry that he hid me away, he made me feel bad for giving him a hard time about it.  It’s really awkward because I could just pose as a friend of his, but instead he just shuts me out.  So on one hand I understand how difficult the coming out process is, but on the other, I just feel I’m being mistreated here.  What should I do?

– Mike

 

Mike,

 

Kiddo.  You’re absolutely right.  He is mistreating you.  In a big way.

I can’t tell you how much it hurts my heart when you evoke this image:  I think of  you sitting alone in that room.  Abandoned by the guy who’s supposed to be loving you.  Lonely.  Like how you felt before you came out of the closet, huh?  Do you remember that feeling?  Like you were destined to be shut away?  Like every sort of loving, warm emotion you’d ever have would be locked up and stifled?  Remember feeling like you should hide the part of yourself that some straight people find disgusting?

So, do you wanna go back to feeling like that?

I’ll answer for you:  No.  You don’t.  Kid, you seem really smart.  You can’t afford to feel that way about yourself.  Dating this guy says you’re willing to participate in a world where we accept that people are disgusted by us.  You’re out.  You’re no longer participating in that.  You should be proud of that.  That makes you good.

This guy, your boy friend?  He wants you to buy into this logic:  “My grandfather has the right to think you’re disgusting and evil for loving me, and my grandfather’s feelings are much more important than yours – to the extent that I will deny your existence to him.”  Don’t buy into that logic.  He wants you to feel a little ashamed, too, so that he can use that shame to get  you to capitulate to sharing his misery with him.  That makes him evil.

You have a high self esteem.  You proved it by coming out at all.  But having a high self esteem isn’t where a great human ends up – it’s the STARTING POINT.  You now have to protect your self esteem at all costs.   The world still wants you to feel ashamed, but you don’t have to participate.

How do you not participate?  Simple, but not easy.  DO NOT associate yourself with anyone who associates homosexuality with shame, or finds it disgusting, ugly, or makes excuses for it apologetically.    That includes other gays, and bis, like your boyfriend.  There are plenty of gays out there who hate themselves, and there are plenty of them that should.  But they should hate themselves for being jerks, not for being gay.  I’m kidding.  Sort of.

(I’m not at ALL kidding)

Maybe I spoke too strongly.  Maybe your boyfriend isn’t EVIL.  But his thought patterns are  contributing to an evil world.  Let’s focus on the good, huh, Mike?  Let’s hang out with people that respect each other and value themselves.  Sorry to say this.  I know you love him but listen:  you have to ditch him.  He is not a man he is a scared little boy.  And people do awful things when they’re scared.  He’ll do it again.  He’ll put himself before you again.    Ditch.

I’m going to say it again.  Ditch.  Ditch him.  What he’s showing you is not love.

You’re lovely Mike.  Be lovely.  Be loved.  Let yourself be loved.  That is my advice.

 

 

 

I’m a sucker for dirty white people doing bluegrass music.  It makes me feel like home in the Ozarks.

 

Sometimes People ask me on dates.  They see me online.  Maybe they think I’m the solution to their life’s problems, or loneliness.  Invariably I prove them wrong:

Him: Hey, OMG I can’t believe it.

Me:  Thanks?  What happened?  Are my horns showing?

Him:  What? I was going to say I can’t believe it’s the Pie man.

Me:  I was making a joke, a bad joke, about me being Jewish.

Him:  Are you Jewish?

Me:  No.

(pause)

Me:  It just occurred to me to say it.  I thought it would be funny.  It’s my job to say and do funny things, so I kind of blurt out inappropriate stuff sometimes.  Sorry, if I offended you…  Are you Jewish?

Him:  No, but I could have been.  What if they heard you?

Me:  Who?

Him:  The Jews?

Me:  The Jews? Every Jewish person in the world?

Him:  No, but if someone was Jewish.

Me: Someone probably is.  I said it was inappropriate.  I’m sorry.  You’re super cute, pal.

Him:  Ugh.  I’m ugly today.

Me:  Nah.  You’re cute.

Him:  Thanks, are those real glasses?

Me:  Not in the slightest.  Well, I mean.  They’re real.  They’re made of glass and plastic.

Him:  Where did you get them?

Me:  I had an affair with someone who left them at my house.

Him:  Oh Jesus…  And you co-opted his look?

Me:  Er…  I guess so.  I guess I did.  I kind of just like putting on costumes and being other people.  I’m an actor too.

Him: Ugh.  Actors.

Me:  Tell me about it.  Oh you just did.  Just kidding. (pause)   Stop it,  I’m just kidding.  So you’re into pies, you said?

Him:  I have to be honest.  I  kind of hate that the glasses are fake.

Me:  Why?

Him:  Because it means that you’re a fake person.

Me:  No, I mean why do you have to be honest?  We live in a SOCIETY.  We can’t afford to start being HONEST with each other all the sudden.

(pause)

Me:  This is bad news.  I thought I was real.  I thought I was a real person.  I better tell my mother.

Him:  Shut UP.  I mean…  well, look at me.  I wear glasses.

Me:  Are they FAKE?

Him:  No, I need them.  They’re real.  And that’s a handicap.  So when you wear them it’s like you’re making fun of me.

Me:  No.  It’s not.

Him:  Yes, it kind of is.

Me:  I don’t put on my glasses and think to myself, this will really fuck with the heads of people who wear real glasses.  I don’t have any malice toward people who wear glasses.  I think it’s sexy, kind of, and I feel sexy in the glasses, oddly enough.  Can’t a homo feel sexy, once in a while?  I didn’t even seek them out.  They quite literally fell in my lap.  See what I did there?

Him:  You think you’re funny but you’re not.

Me:  Thanks.  I’d prefer if you said ‘That joke’s not funny. It doesn’t work.’  Please don’t tell me I’m not funny.

Him:  Oh really.

Me:  Yes really.

Him:  Why not?

Me:  Here’s why:  What do you do?

Him:  I’m a nurse.

Me:  Okay.  Now pretend you’re me for a second.  Ready?

Him:  Okay.

Me:  You’re a terrible nurse.  You let your patients die all the time and you rape people in comas.

Him:  What?  That’s not true.

Me:  And even if it was, it wouldn’t be for me to say.  I haven’t watched you work.  I don’t know that to be true.  That’s what you do when you call a comic unfunny.  If you’re going to call me unfunny, come see my show first.  Did you think it was funny when I said you rape people in comas?

Him:  No.  There’s problems with that, at hospitals, sometimes.  Rarely.  I’ve heard of that.  That’s not funny.

Me:  Well, you say potato –  I say hilarious.  So, hey, you really are super cute.

Him:  I don’t like that you brought up rape on the subway platform.

Me:  What?  It’s a perfect place to rape someone.  Besides – nobody’s listening, except all the Jews in the world.

Him:  Take those glasses off.

Me:  I don’t think I will, but thanks for the feedback.

Him:  Come on, just take them off.

Me: No.  Wait, okay. I will.  If you kiss me, right here.

Him:  What?  No.

Me:  Okay, so the glasses stay on then.

(long uncomfortable pause)

Surprise Ending:  I didn’t get a kiss.  I stopped wanting one, though.

Just give me my damn antibiotics,  RIGHT AID.  Stop trying to link my corporate success with your pharmacy.

Enjoy your weekend, Jerks.

 

 

photos by Erwin Caluya Photography

My friend Jason contacted me.  He was appalled that I hadn’t had him on yet.  I was too.

I mean, look at him!

He really wanted us to bake something with Guinness, for St. Patrick’s Day.  What was I gonna say?  No?

We made a quick bread made of Guinness, ginger, rasin, and walnut.

I was happy Jason came over.

He and I are old friends.  We did shows together in the past, and we’ll continue to collaborate.  He’s the kind of guy it’s easy to respect.

Jason is a very talented actor.  Also, he’s very funny.

He wanted me to tell you how to make the bread:

2 cups brown sugar
1 cup mashed bananas
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon Vanilla extract
2 tablespoons oil
3 cups all purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon allspice
1 tablespoon cardamom
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
2 cups Guinness
2 cups broken walnuts
2 cups raisins
1 tablespoon finely grated fresh ginger

Preheat oven to 350 F . Lightly grease two 9X5 inch loaf pans
In a large bowl cream the brown sugar, banana, eggs, vanilla and oil.
Set aside.
In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, baking soda, salt,
cinnamon, allspice, cardamom and cloves.
Alternately blend the flour mixture and the Guinness into the creamed
mixture.
Stir in the walnuts, raisins, and ginger to the mixture and blend well.
Pour into the two greased 9X5 loaf pans.
Bake in a 350 degree F oven for 1 hour or until an inserted toothpick emerges dry and clean.
Leave in pan for 15 minutes to cool before turning out to cool
completely on rack.

The bread turned out wonderfully.   Jason was  a charming guest.  Jason told me about his t-shirt company.  He runs a company with a few friends of his, when he’s not starring in plays.

He’s very well rounded…

Jason and I were happy about the quick bread:

I think we can both recommend this recipe for your St. Patrick’s Day.

Jason’s a pretty impressive man.

He was light-hearted and playful.  I’d have him over any time.  His recipe was perfect.

He’s nice.
Happy St. Patty’s Day.

Enjoy Jason Blaine, Jerks…

Photo By Erwin Caluya, a Fagetarian and an Eternal Tween

Okay Jerks.  The time has come to celebrate.

 

I’m throwing a party.  Tonight.  March 16th.  10:30 pm.

 

Details lined out in this video:

 

Enjoy my Birth, Jerks.

What?

It’s my birthday today.  I’m not going to post much.  Just that I’m glad you guys come here.  I’m grateful.  I feel really privileged.  You guys are nice, and sweet, and perfect.  Thanks for another year.

Jerks.

 

 

 

 

 

I’m applying to the BMI workshop this summer.  They give free training to promising musical theater composers.  I write songs for my smart ass, funny boy band, and I thought maybe they might translate into decent musical theater.

Here’s a song I’m workshopping.  John-Flor Sisante and Jon Norman Schneider are helping me in this (pretty old) clip.  I think the final version will be pared down.  Maybe one singer with a guitar.  Who knows?  Let me know what you think…

Oh yeah.  Enjoy your Sunday, Jerks.

 

Time: August ’10, 11pm

Place: Central Park

 

Him:  This is good.  We can stop here.

Me: I want you to be comfortable.

Him:  Here is fine.  Near the water.  I like here.  I’ve always liked this place.  Here is good.

Me:  Is it?  Have you?

Him: What do you mean?

Me:  You never took me here before.  Or mentioned it.  Is this place special?  Or are you just –

Him: I like this place.

Me:  Sorry.  Of course.  I’m sorry.

Him:  That’s not  a good way to start this conversation.

Me:  Which one?  You look pretty.

Him:  Thank you.   You’re amazing and beautiful.  The conversation you brought me here to have.

Me:  What?

Him:  This is Central Park.  You never take me here either.

Me:  Yeah, well…  I guess we’ve got some talking to do.  Hey.  I think you’re great, by the way.  You’re fucking… inspiring.  You’re really a quality guy.  I’m so proud for you.  So much good stuff coming your way lately.

Him:  Oh, jeez…  thanks.  You’re nice.  You’ve always been nice.  Thanks for supporting me when things looked dark.

Me: Oh come on.  That’s like, your middle name.  All you do is support…  Everyone loves you.

Him:  People love you too.

Me:  They think I’m funny.  And sometimes they want to fuck me.  It’s not the same thing.  They really love you.

Him:  Well.  No.  But.  Thanks.

Me:  Remember those times we had.  We were pretty good people, back then.  We were something…

Him: You started resenting me, somewhere along the line.

Me: I didn’t…   Maybe.  Maybe I did.  Somewhere.  It’s not your fault.  It was an awful time for all of us.  We shouldn’t have done that.

Him:  We did what we did.  We can’t undo it and we’re better people for it.

Me: NO.  Yes.  But, no.  We had no right to do that to ourselves.  The three of us.   We did it.  And we all regret it and none of us regret it…  but still…  You and I both know it:  we did wrong.  We should not have taken the liberties we took with one another.  None of us should have.  Not any one of the three…

Him:  It was fucked up.  And then we tried to recover.

Me: And then we tired to recover.

Him:  But that wont’ work, will it?

Me: Maybe not.

Him:  I love you, Michael.

Me: I love you too.  God.  I love you.

Him:  Maybe we are made to be apart instead?

Me:  Or you could just get a job?

Him:  What?

Me:  Job.  You could…  I’m sorry.  I know you don’t like this.

Him:  I have a job.  I’m an actor.

Me: I know.  And yet, there’s no room.  There’s no room for me in that equation.  You don’t make enough money to even REALLY support yourself.  So there’s never going to be you moving into my place, us getting a mortgage, us adopting kids.  None of that stuff is on the horizon, right?  And I’m older than you, by a few choice years.  I want that stuff…

Him:  Do you?  You don’t act like you do.

Me: I want the option.

Him:  Is that so important?  The option?

Me:  Yes.

(pause)

Me:  Don’t ask why.  I’m usually really good at a logical ‘why.’  But this time I can’t.  I can’t say why.

Him:  I think you’re complicated in such a beautiful way.

Me: See?  That’s why I love you.  You say it like a compliment.  Most people would say ‘neurotic.’

 

Me:  Hey.  Did I ever tell you how pretty you are?  You’re really pretty.  I think you’re just about the prettiest thing I ever laid eyes on.

Him:  You’re nice.  Stop it.

Me:  You’re really amazing.  Goddammit.  So hot.  Hey.  If we’re going to insist on doing this, why don’t we  become the best fucking version of ourselves possible?  Why don’t we prove to the fucking WORLD how beautiful we are?

What I’m saying is:  make me feel stupid for breaking up with you.  You’re fucking awesome.  Have that awesome life, okay?

Him:  You are.  That’s what’s going to happen to you.  You’re awesome.

Me:  Thanks.  But I just want to survive.  Or thrive.  Wouldn’t that be nice?  Thriving?

Him:  We could have.  Something changed.

Me: Well…  I still love you.

Him: I still love you too…

Me:  Do you want to do it?

Him: It’s so out of character for me…

Me:  Oh stop.  Just try it…

Him: Okay…

(pause)

Him:  Enjoy the SaturDATE, Jerks.

Me: Didn’t that feel good?