Thursday, May 25, 2006

When will my reflection show who I am inside?

I lied a lot today, and guys, it's wearing my ass out. Maybe it's my fast approaching birthday that has me so prickly, or maybe it's just as Robbie says: You see the problem with me, I've got a head full of fuck. I know I go on about this, but you're my outlet, so love me or leave me. Back to the lies. That lack of honesty that pervades aspects of my life is fucking killing me. Every day I say things that are contrary to what I'm actually feeling. The opposite of what is in my head. It's a part I play. I can fool you. Or am I fooling myself? I started this blog last year and I was talking about the same damn thing. Age is just a number, of course, but it's a marker. I'm not afraid of getting old. I welcome it. I hate the number because it marks another year when I haven't sacked up and made the right changes. Ummm....I guess that's all. Even when I'm all pissy and conflicted like I am today, I can still smile at casting myself as fucking Mulan. Reflection lyrics. Heh. It's the Gemini in me. Having a lucky cricket sidekick would be awesome, though. Oh and that birthday? June 10. Gifts are now being accepted.Mostly this random babble is about marking time and making changes and being true...standing in my truth, bitch, as freakgirl says. But I guess part of it is about aging and was triggered by a lady who just left my office. She said she was trying to figure out which of us is older. She is only 47 and I'm about to be 41 (yeah, you heard me), a blink of the eye, I'll admit, but fuck me, sister looks like she been rode hard and put up wet. My reflection may not show who I am inside, but it does show a damn sight better than her mullet-having, tracksuit-wearing, onion-smelling ass.

Do I sound kinda bitter? Fucking 41. Brotha Mike needs to sack up, right? If bitter, it's directed inward. Well, mostly. Bitch was trippin'.

Added: Guys, WHILE I was just responding to comments, my phone rang. It was a woman who works for me. She and her husband are going to Chicago in July. Wants me to go with. Maybe see a show. Do some shopping. And oh, she has a sister who lives there. A nurse. She's 39. Lives downtown. I said, "Let me think about it." The fuck? Are the fates hitting me with anvils now? You might know I'd love to make a Chicago trip this summer, but my pursuits would be more aligned with these.

23 comments:

Michael Guy said...

Oh, hon--buck up! Look! It's all just a number, tis true. And I'd trade places with you in a jiffy minute from the birthday mile marker I'm about to slide into. Question though, re: 'trade places': does that put you on top or the bottom?

"onion smelling ass" That's rank, dude. I don't think I'll look at an onion bagel in the same way ever again.

A friend of mine gave me some sage advice. Sure, he's in rehab now--but what the hey--the advice still stands: "People do what they need to do until they don't need to do it any more." Ain't that a kick in the rubber balls?!

Charlie said...

Well that was a manic moment. Turning 41 just means I get to call you daddy. ;)

maddie said...

Wow, June 10th! Another June baby! One of my friends, who is a 40-something gay man, has the same birthday. Hmmm. Are you sure your name's not Mark and you live in NJ? ;)

My b-day is June 18th...the big 2-9. AHHH! I'm starting to get that whole "oh my god I'm not married/no kids/no great career/approaching 30 quickly" panic. I know, you want to smack me.

All of that lying must be exhausting, I can't even imagine what it's like to have to keep doing that everyday. It's got to be tough keeping all that inside.

Michael said...

Good advice, MG, but goddamnit I'm out of patience with myself. All these fucking women want to fix me up with their daughters and nieces and friends. And dude, some of these bitches are hot. I can't continue to fucking smile and play along. I know for a fact that some of them have tasty nephews and sons. Oh, as for trading places, whether 41 or ummm, not 41, with you I feel like giving. And giving. And giving.

Charlie, I'd take care of you real good. And you come with your own cash. Bonus!

Michael said...

Maddie, some days I don't even think about it, some days it drives me to distraction. Lately, more of the latter. So, you're a Gemini, too. Go figure.

freakgirl said...

My best friend's birthday is June 10th! Fun day!

Dude, I'm sure these people would be more than willing to set you up with their sons and nephews if you set them, er, "straight" on exactly who you are.

Michael Guy said...

I spent 15 years of my current job in the corporate closet. As you know it was draining. Between M - F I sprinkled all conversation with "I" did this, "I" am going here, "I" am vacationing. Alone. No one ever crossed the threshold of my home. Couldn't. I was too fearful of their snap judgements. All of this smoke-n-mirrors was worthless. Futile. I'm no flamer (well a shade magenta), but the ONLY person I was kidding was myself. I know you understand this notion as well. January '05 I basically said 'hell with it' and started peppering my conversations with 'we.' And when folks finally started warming to the idea they asked who 'we' was: I didn't skip a beat: "I have a partner; we've been together for nearly 24 years." No shock. No judgements. No tears. None that I witnessed. Maybe they talk about me behind closed doors. But you know what? I'm the most fabulous person that ever crossed their life's dreary path. They know it. And most importantly--now I know it, too.

Let it out when you feel ready. You'll know when. Forty one and not married signals a message for those who can hear it. But no doubt the 'have you met my daughter' lead-ins must get old after awhile. You're a looker; it comes with the territory. And, too--location, location, location. I'm just saying it's easier for me to wear capris and a pink boa to the market. Should I choose. And I don't. But I could. If I wanted to.

.: HUGS :. Sorry for the ramble.

Michael said...

No, I appreciate the ramble, MG.

And freakgirl, I'm in the most Bible-y section of the Bible belt, the reddest section of a red state. If I was out and proud here, I'd be out on the street, too. What the fuck was I thinking? 15 years ago, I was thinking that I might just be married with children and a white flippin' picket fence. I know, right? ENOUGH already. I'll stop whining. I need to be where people don't mind a faggot all up in their grille. Cuz that's where I am at work. All on you.

freakgirl said...

So it's time to move on to an area where you can be a faggot all up in their grills. You don't need to be the trailblazer who teaches your current town that it's OKAY to be GAY; who the fuck wants THAT job?

Time to start making plans. And to quote, once again, Starting Over, if you're not ready - it's time to get ready to get ready, baby.

Michael said...

You're right. You're right. You're right! Oh crap. Did I just have this drama in public?

Jesus Christ, isn't somebody gonna hold me?

Michael Guy said...

Look. I don't want everyone to think I'm a wolf waiting in the wings if I say "sure, I'll hold you and much more." I mean, come on--I do think beyond my crotch, people.

Was I just preaching to the choir?

Anywhooooo. Yes, If you were in CHG I'd have you meet me at The Ritz Carlton, The Greenhouse--for a martini. YOU need one badly. Straight up.

http://www.fourseasons.com/chicagorc/celebrations/dining_101.html

Bodhi said...

Dude, I hear ya brotha. Moi turns 41 on August 19. Le *Sigh*.

Now excuse me, while I go and do the he's-70-days-older-than-me-dance, m'kay?

freakgirl said...

Come here and give Auntie Freakgirl a hug, Michael. :)

Michael Guy said...

:: busy polishing anvils ::

Bodhi said...

::hoping thats a euphemism::

Michael said...

Yes, If you were in CHG I'd have you meet me at The Ritz Carlton, The Greenhouse--for a martini.

MG, I'm gonna hold you to it. Oh, and also accept that offer.

Bodhi, eat me. That's not a euphemism. ;-) I seriously don't care about the number. I have a few more wrinkles and a grey hairs, but those are the only concession I'm making to age, to date. I feel better than I ever have. I'm way smarter. I know how to do lots of things. It's just the honesty thing, and once I'm living large, I'm gonna be insufferable because then, let's face it, I'll be the SHIT.

Freakgirl, I knew I could count on you. And you even let me play with your boobs a little. So good to me!

MG & B, you really oughta take your show on the road. On that tip, is it sad clown that earlier I actually Orbitzed an itinerary taking me to Sydney (with stops in London and Florence)?

Lastly, it turns out that my sister is in town from FL when the folks wanted to set me up in Chicago, so I begged out without another lie. Well, kinda without lying, because had it been dinner and shopping and show with a hot brother, my sister might have been cooling her heels here without me.

Bodhi said...

"It's not lying if they make you lie. If the only truth they can accept is their own." - Brian Kinney

Michael said...

Awww, come over here, young man, so I can thank you properly.

Jen said...

Aww, sweetie. Email me when you're ready to set up an offline date. I will buy cocktails, you can bitch and moan, I will listen, and then we will find you a handsome brute to further console you.

Bodhi said...

I second that offer, Mikey. Well, at least with the cock, moaning, handsome brute and consoling bits ;-)

MWAH!

Michael said...

Jen, I'm ready, but we'll not waste time bitching and moaning when we can be snarking on passersby. Serve up the cocktails and brutes, though, and keep 'em coming, barkeep.

Bodhi, my vacation dance card is open, so I'm once again more seriously considering Sydney, via Spain or Italy. Not exactly financially prudent when I'm considering changing locales, but... homo, remember? I think living beyond our means is one allele on the gay gene that I'm long overdue in expressing.

I know you get all hot when I pull out my Biology major, don't you?

Bodhi said...

dance card is open ... considering Sydney ... Biology major...

Dude, I'm beyond hot. You have me going into meltdown.

Charlie said...

Sweetheart, I feel ya. Let's get you relocated somewhere appropriate. (That was not necessarily a sexual innuendo)