A Weekend in Cincinnati and Some Potpourri for Good Measure

Sometimes I enjoy writing about things that I do or things that happen to me. Other times, during the slow times if you will, I write some of my thoughts. Sometimes, its a swirling mixture of both. This may be one of those times.

This past weekend, instead of going to Illinois, I went to Cincinnati. I love that town. I went to school there for two years back in the early 90's. God that makes me feel old. I moved from Cincinnati to Columbus in 1998. Before I moved to Columbus, I met Bryan. This guy doesn't quit. I've known him now for around eight years. Enough about him. He will be featured in an upcoming "Spotlite On..." segment.

I had a great time in Cincy. I went to a club called The Dock, an older club in the warehouse district down by the Stadium, on Thursday night. Saturday, while Bryan was w0rking, I went to a new club-Adonis. I've been to the Dock several times and like it. Adonis was what I call an S&M bar-stand and model. Not really my thing. It was a very nice club, but I like a place I can hang out and be myself, not one you have to have your clothes perfect and your hair perfectly coifed. (I love that word. It sounds a little dirty.)

My words really can't convey the fun I had leaving home and work behind for a few days, mostly because I did things that would be illegal in 46 states. Not really, but it's fun to make people think that. :) You haven't lived until you've seen Bryan splayed out under the kitchen sink changing a faucet. The best part is, when he asked me to test the new sprayer, I did--by spraying him while he was laying on the floor. You never saw anyone jump up so fast. And of course we had the expected domino effect. He sat up real fast, knocking his head against the bottom of the sink. Rust fell into his eye, so he was howling in pain as he ran to the bathroom. While he was flushing his eyes, the toilet blew up....or something like that. (Ed. note: Bryan, you may want to correct this story, but if you do, I'll talk about "The Big One.")

A weekend in Cincy is never complete without Erica and Nicholas. Bryan's roommate and her son. For fear of reprisals, I'll keep this section brief. Suffice it to say that you know Erica likes you when she pouts at you and her eyebrows furrow deeply, almost touching. If you get that look, you're in good. Nicholas is a cute kid for seven years old. Funny without intending to be sometimes, he brings the comic relief to the house.

I want to rewind a couple weeks to February 7. I had, I thought, a neat thing happen that I want to share. My dad called me that evening. He doesn't call very often so it was a bit of a surprise. When I answered, he said, "Happy Two Months." I had to think for a minute to figure out what he was talking about. Then I realized he was calling because I was two months clean. I love the support I get from my parents, but that wasn't the best part. My dad told me he had been waiting for three days to call me and say that. I didn't know my dad ever had to wait for anything! To my parents who may or may not ever see this: Thanks for your support.

My mom called me just the other night. I love my parents, and they will always be 18 and 21 years older than me. When I feel like I should be 20 forever, they should be 38 and 41. But they aren't. I would never, in a public forum such as this devulge my parents' ages, but I'm 33. But I digress. I do that a lot I guess.

My mom called me the other night at 1:00 AM. I answered the phone asking who died. As far as I know, my parents are in bed by 9:00 every night. Thankfully, no one had died. My mom was just having some insomnia. She told me that when this has happened to her before, people have told her to call them as they were probably up late anyway. I've never told my mom that. But I was awake-and honored that she would call me.

My parents were in town a couple weeks ago and I met them one morning for breakfast. Allstate Insurance is running a commercial that says, "There's an accident in this country every five minutes." At that moment, a car is shown ripping the door off a car that is parallel parked. I think of that every time I park on a street somewhere. Anyway, as I was unlocking my mom's car door, I looked at her and said, "There's an accident in this country every five minutes." Without missing a beat, and before I could finish, my mom piped up and said, "Allstate thinks that's too often."

Funny stuff. Maybe it's my odd sense of humor, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Black Holes and Other Mysteries

So my plans for this weekend have changed. I took a couple of vacation days this week to go to Illinois. To meet Chris. The W-2's came back, I filed my taxes, and talked to him about coming out to meet him. We had this weekend set aside to do that and then...nothing. I haven't spoken to him for eleven days. I haven't heard from him at all for eight. The last communication I had from him was a text message saying he'd call me. I wrote to him and called him several times last week because I really needed to know what to do this weekend. Well, after no response for several days, I called Bryan, my friend in Cincinnati. So, I will be taking the time I was gonna go to Illinois and spend it instead in Cincinnati. It's always a blast to see Bryan.

But back to Chris for a moment. I have had plenty of time to think about what may have happened. Obviously, I have no proof, but I can only suspect he got cold feet. If that's the case, maybe I'll hear from him one day. I hope so. But, on the other hand, I don't want to chase people. When I like someone, they have more than plenty of ways to get a hold of me.

What happens to these guys? Chris is by no means the first to vanish. Before Chris, there was Chris. The guy I talked about waaaay back at the beginning of this thing. Actually, now that I think about it, it was one year ago today, Valentine's Day that I saw him last. We took a nap, and when I woke up he was gone. Never answered another of my phone calls. I've heard about him a time or two since last February, but never spoke to him again.

Before Chris was Nick. Nick and I went dated for a short time in the spring and summer of 2004. We went to Chicago together for a weekend in July that year. Upon returning from Chicago, I never heard from him. For a year. I ran into him online again last summer and then saw him once or twice after that. His explanation last summer was that he wasn't really sure what he wanted so he quit calling. Fair enough, but he could have told me he was done.

Before Nick was Brad. Brad is a long story from the winter of 2004. Maybe, if I feel like documenting my side some day, I'll write the whole thing out. In the interest of time, though, suffice it to say, he disappeared after three weeks with me.

Way before Brad was Jason. And Brian. You know, a guy could get a complex, but not me. At this point I think it'll make my memoir that much more readable. What's a life story without a little mystery? And again I ask, what happened to them? Here's what I really think. Some day I'm going to find all those single socks and misplaced pens. And no less than six guys. I keep looking behind the dryer.

A Thought-Provoking Experience

My boss, Tim, is a co-chair for the PRIDE group at work. It's a group of GLBT people throughout the company. We do things like social (networking) events, community involvement, and volunteering for a number of different things. Several weeks ago, he said, "I see you're not volunteering." I told him that I'm not the kind of person who says something needs to get done, then does it, but if he gave me a date and time, I would be there. He said, "Project Open Hand needs volunteers on January 29."

So begins a thought-provoking experience. If you haven't seen Latter Days, you probably should. Yeah, it's a "gay movie," and it is a bit graphic at times, but one of the themes is doing something with your life. In the movie, Christian volunteers and takes food to people with AIDS. That's basically what I did on the 29th. I thought about what I would be doing and thought that these people would be grateful, tears, the whole thing. Kind of like delivering flowers or a food basket at Christmas. Then, I realized that I was bringing someone groceries because they couldn't get out to get them themselves. This would be something normal for them.

My next thought was maybe they would expect something that wasn't in the bag. What if someone got mad at me because the brand of soup they wanted wasn't there? How would I handle it? Lastly, I thought it might be an opportunity to get to know someone maybe, who I might learn something from. Maybe a lifelong friend.

It turned out to be somewhat anti-climactic. I was given four people to deliver to. The first came to the door of his apartment building and took the bags, thanking us. I asked if he needed help with it. He said "No" and was gone. The second had a little bit more food, so he did accept help getting it up the two flights of stairs into his apartment. The third didn't come to the door. Someone else came to the door and when we said why we were there, he took the bags and thanked us. The last place was just hard to find, but eventually we did. He also took the food and went back inside.

No one cried, no one got upset, and I didn't make any lifelong friends. When I got home and thought about the experience a little more, I realized I didn't do it for me. I did it to help someone out who couldn't get to the store. Did I change a life? Probably not. Did I maybe lighten someone's thoughts and worries a little bit? Maybe. I hope to be able to do it again sometime, but next time I know. It's not for me, but for them. Regardless of the reaction I think I might get or actually do.

You too, might think about volunteering. It doesn't have to be 40 hours a week. One Sunday afternoon a month might do more for someone than you think. Hmmm.