lgbt

Can’t you feel a brand new day…

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I’m fucking starving. 

Starving I tell you.  

And this is a very good thing.  

My lost post, if anyone is paying attention ,was on March 1.  

The following week was busy, as I had a new manager start at work.  

I was with her almost every minute of the day, and included working longer days than I had been.

By the end of that weekend, I was beat.  

I woke up on Monday, March 12, feeling like shit.  

It was as though I’d been hit by a truck.  

I was tired.  Cranky.  Felt out of it.  

And for almost two days, I was convinced I was getting sick.  

On Thursday, I had a realization.  

I wasn’t sick.  I wasn’t getting sick.

I was depressed.  

Talk about being insightful. 

Seriously.  

I was sitting at my desk at work, not getting nearly as much accomplished as I needed, when I realized that what I was feeling was exactly how I felt when my mom died.  

It didn’t make me feel better.  

But suddenly I knew how to start making it better.  

For me that first step was talking about it.  

When I got home from work that night, Adam asked how I was feeling, and I told him what was up.  He was very supportive and understanding.  

He asked how to help, and I told him he’d already helped, just by listening and understanding.  

The next day at work, I shared this with two of my co-workers.  I needed them to understand that I wasn’t sick, and I wasn’t wasting time.  I just couldn’t focus.  

In a perfect world, I’d have taken a sick day, but alas, that’s not where we live.  

On Tuesday, I took the day off.  And I slept.  And slept.  And slept.  

I got up at 4:30.  

And I felt much better. 

I didn’t get any of my errands done, but I felt good.  

And it was finally all gone yesterday.  It was as if the clouds had clear and there was sunshine.  

I was able to be hyper-focused, and get so much done at work.  

I was making lists, and crossing things off and felt like a normal person.  

And today, this is all confirmed as I have my appetite back.  For the last week, I’ve eaten but I don’t know that I’ve been super hungry.  Today I am famished.  I’m fucking starving. 

When I’m feeling depressed, I tend to isolate.  

I also, tend to lose interest in most of the things I do for fun, like writing.  

It’s hard to focus.  And if I can focus, it’s hard to stay focused.  

But today I am feeling better.

Funny story though…

A couple of days ago a memory popped up on Facebook.  It was a blog post from a year ago.  

Here’s a link to said story:  https://id-like-to-speak-to-the-manager.com/2023/03/16/my-time-of-day/

It’s basically said that a year ago I was feeling the same way.  Went to the doctor etc.  

And my conclusion is:  Perhaps I’m adverse to the spring time change.  

It wouldn’t be out of the question?  And it might explain a thing or two.  

And there is no reason for me to be depressed.  Nothing in my life has changed and if it has, it’s been for the better.  

So.  

I was depressed.  I’m not any more.  

Perhaps I hate Daylight Saving Time after all.  

The end.  

WORLDS TO CHANGE, AND WORLDS TO WIN, OUR TURN COMING THROUGH, ME AND YOU MAN, ME AND YOU.

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Back at Bennigan’s.

Winter turned to spring, and then spring to summer.

I was starting to live my authentic life.

It was the first time, that I’d been able to be out and proud as they say.

It felt as though a 1,000 pounds had been lifted off my shoulders.

There have been a million studies about the toll that hiding in the closet takes on a gay person’s mental and physical health.

The lying.

The scheming.

The pretending.

The absolute fear that you live with daily.

And that’s without the constant verbal and physical beating that many gay people take as they pass through life.

It’s exhausting to say the least.

It’s the reason that so many LGBT people become addicted to sex, drugs, and alcohol.

You truly needed something to numb the pain and get rid of the fear that is always just below the surface.

At 22, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

The door was open.

At least in Atlanta.

For the first time ever, I was living out loud.

And it wasn’t just about being gay.

I was going to bars. I was seeing theater. I was trying new restaurants, and ultimately new food. I was being exposed to culture that did not exist in a small rural town.

Who knew brunch was a thing, when you grow up in a small, dry, town in Kentucky?

I don’t think my dance card had or has ever been more filled than the two years I lived down south.

It was part growing up, part going through my juvenile years as a gay man, learning to date and be an adult. It was also part coming to terms with who I was, who I wanted to be, and learning to accept that — warts and all.

The lack of fear that I presented still astounds me. I was bold and not shy, and would put myself out there in a heartbeat. I sometimes wonder what happened to that young man.

I’m far from through writing about Atlanta in the late 80’s.

Stay tuned.

There is more to come.

Glitter and be gay, that’s the part I play…

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Breaking news!!!

I am gay.

Funny story.

For my whole adult life, whenever I tell someone a story that involves me saying the words, I’m gay, the person I’m talking to will stop me and say, Wait! What? You are gay??? Seriously???

And it’s been true no matter the time in my life.

In Atlanta.

In grad school in Kentucky.

In grad school in San Diego.

In Cincinnati,

In NYC.

At my last 12 jobs.

And it happened today.

I said something about being gay, and an employee interrupted the story and said, Wait!!! What? You are gay? Seriously??? I had no idea.

And before anyone suggests she didn’t know; she has met Adam.

She has waited on him.

I’m pretty sure my having a boyfriend would have clued her into the fact that I am indeed a homosexual.

Keep it glad, keep it mad, keep it gay!

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I rarely write about guests these days.

Until tonight. 

 A server asked a single gentleman, who was waiting for the rest of his party, what she could get him to drink, and he replied, “I think I’ll get a f*ggy drink tonight, so make it a cosmo. 

She was taken aback to say the least.  

She asked me what she should do or say, I said, if he doesn’t say anything else inappropriate, just pretend that that’s not what he said.    

Since nothing else offensive came from him, I’m choosing to believe he said something else all together.

However, as a rule, most f*ggy men I know, prefer bourbon to cosmopolitans, just so you know.

I’M HAPPY, JUST BEING WITH YOU.  SO WHAT SHOULD IT MATTER TO ME, WHAT YOU DO IN BED WITH GUYS. I

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I started at Bennigan’s and quickly proved myself to be good at the job. The staff seemed to like me and I got along with most everyone.

As I got to know more people, I became aware that all but two of the male front house employees, were gay.

Two very butch, very masculine bartenders, who didn’t seem to mind that they were surrounded by gay men.

I mixed right in, but at this point in my life, I’d only ever told one person that I was gay. A woman I worked with at Wendy’s named Tammy. We sat on the curb at three in the morning, talking about life, and I confessed my deepest, darkest secret.

So here I am in the middle of a bunch of gay men, still pretending to be straight.

And for the most part everyone bought it.

Or so I thought.

Turns out that all the gay men thought I was gay.

All of the women thought I was straight.

Rumor had it there were bets floating around.

I played the straight game as best I could. Keeping my head low, and trying to not be obvious.

Fast forward to the first week of December. One of the servers is having her first annual Jewish/Christmas party.

What is that you ask?

It’s a party thrown by your co-worker, Stacy, who is Jewish, and her roommate who is not.

Fun fact, when I met Stacy she was the first Jewish person I’d ever met. Georgetown, KY was not known for its plethora of synagogues, and kosher delis.

I am invited to said party, as is most of the rest of the staff.

I get there and am hanging out with everyone, and flirting with Stacy more than I should.

To be honest, I’d flirted with her for a couple of weeks. It truly was not being malicious. I was just protecting my secret.

If you grew up in a small town in Kentucky, where you were called a f*g on the bus every day of the school year, you’d know why the secret was so dark and scary.

If you went to a conservative Baptist college you’d understand why the secret was so dark and scary.

Although, it turns out there was a LOT of gay people at my college, but most of us wouldn’t reveal this secret, till much, much later.

It was also the late 80’s, and people were starting to die, from what we had just discovered was an illness called AIDS. It was not a great time to be coming of age.

Back to the story.

As the night went on, I ended up making out with her. And if I remember correctly, may have even given her a hickey.

In her kitchen, next to the stove. I can still see the room in my head.

The night progressed, and I became a little tipsier, and a little less cautious.

And the next thing I knew, I was on my way to Duane’s apartment, where we made out in a hot tub, in the cold.

The next day I did the walk of shame showing up for my lunch shift, in the same clothes I’d worn to the party.

The cat was definitely out of the bag.

Everyone knew.

Bets were won and lost.

And Stacy didn’t speak to me for a very long 6 months.

If not longer.

Eventually she stopped hating me and we became the best of friends, and for the last year I spent in Atlanta, she was my bestie.

We are still in touch. I visited her in October on my road trip.

I’m sure she’ll tune in today for the next episode in this saga.

She may not know this, but her acceptance of me, paved the way for my acceptance of myself.

I’ll be forever grateful.