Popeye! No!

I've always gotten a kick out of this Far Side.



Some penchants I just don't understand, but they sure make funny comics. ...and movies. Ever seen Kinky Boots? One of the contributions to my life from Andrew just about a year ago now. I remember that by the end, I wasn't even wanting to vomit at the flamboyant drag...and I wasn't sure how to feel about that fact. *wink*

And to my friend who would claim he has pictures of me in drag, it doesn't count if there's no make-up or kinky boots. :-P

Oh crap, there was that Halloween, though...hey, we all do things we regret in our teenage years.

Day Of The Spoon

Holy freak, people! OK, out of the ten hits to my blog today, eight--yes, eight--are Google searches for spooning. Of all the posts I've ever published, The Big Spoon is far and away the most hit-on entry on my blog. I still get daily hits for it. I never knew it would become such a Google darling.

The sad part is, the poor saps who come here from Google searches about the guy being the little spoon and what it means are probably looking for some reassurance of their masculinity and heterosexuality, only to find a bunch of homos confirming that homos like being the little spoon. Poor guys.

So to my daily visitors looking for affirmation for your atypical taste in spooning behavior, I can only extend my empathy for being uncharacteristic among your kind and wish you peace in your quest for spoonish understanding. But hey, if any of you supposed straighties who prefer being the small spoon are feeling swayed to curiosity and want to try something a little different, I know where you can find a big spoon...who's your daddy?

The Boys Are Back In Town

Well, this is certainly an energetic time of year, when everyone is back at the local universities and colleges, eagerly meeting new people, forming new friendships, reconnecting, soaking up the last rays of sun, hitting the gym with renewed vigor.

The gym has been rejuvenated with a freshly loaded stock of hot bods and cute faces, and while I'm not drooling everywhere, I certainly do notice and appreciate the fresh scenery. Yup, very nice. But the gym is not the place that most sent me back into a slightly kid-in-the-candy-store giddiness I haven't felt for some time. No, it was an entirely different, much less expected setting which nearly uncaged my inner tiger.

OK, I think I'm mostly past the constant knuckle-biting and seeing hot guys everywhere whether or not there are actually hot guys. I've learned to be a little more real about it and not get too easily wooed by a hot bod or a pretty face. But let's be honest, I'm still a guy, and I'm not so old or so blind as to be oblivious.

So I was sitting in the Marriott Center tonight, and yes, I was listening to the talk about trials and Liberty Jail and making the most unlikely places into our own personal temples by sanctifying ourselves and our experiences and yadda yadda yadda, but give me a stinkin' break. I was sitting in a stadium full of fresh, young, clean-cut, wholesome, tanned, well-dressed, approachable, healthy-looking, hormonal people of both genders, many of which happened to be male with really great jaw lines, kind eyes, lean bods, and beautiful...countenances, and I incidentally noticed a couple of really attractive guys. OK, more than a couple. OK, it was like a huge gourmet buffet of hotness. I was sitting there, in the presence of an apostle, sighing at the beauty of many guys within my line of vision, wondering--for no reason I'd actually act on--if any of them might be gay, while listening to the talk about sanctifying our trials. And I laughed at my sometimes comical plight.

This was right after attending a regional conference earlier at which one particular fellow priesthood holder caught my eye. I had laughed then, too, and gone back to listening to the talks. With an occasional glance to see if he was still cute. He was. Oh, stop looking all shocked. I'm a guy, it's what I do. It doesn't mean I'm entertaining lurid fantasies, for goodness' sake. And other gay members of your stake who are worthy priesthood holders do it, too. I know it's upsetting to common conceptions of what a strong, masculine priesthood holder is supposed to be. But just get used to it, Toots.

I Liked You, You Putz

I dreamed last night that I was lying in a living room watching an action flick with several friends, and I was right next to a friend with whom, in real life, things once were quickly and briefly romantic but went sour and with whom I haven't spoken in a while. No contact, no looking in each other's direction, no connecting in any way. Just the awkward awareness of each other on the living room floor.

At one tense point during the movie, I moved my hand in a startled motion and accidentally bumped his hand, and instead of jerking his hand away and accusing me of some ulterior motive, he simply clasped his hand very gently, almost imperceptibly, on mine, as if to leave open the possibility that it was just my imagination in case I rejected the gesture. I might not have noticed except for the gentle pressure of his finger tips on the sides of my hand. I relaxed my tense fingers, letting them drape gently over the edges of his hand, without clasping back, returning the gesture in a way that left it open to interpretation that I might or might not have noticed.

Our hands stayed like that, embraced, somewhat insecure and tentative but clearly intent on connecting, and the movie continued, but I was so relieved that he really did want to connect again and show some small kindness and sincere desire to "hold on" to what friendship we had left that I didn't notice the movie. I was feeling so much relief that after all that has happened between us, this tender gesture proved a persisting desire to repair what we could.
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This dream was just another indicator of my feelings towards a couple of such friendships. I'm not used to romantic friendships gone bad. It's probably old news for most people, something they went through in years much younger than mine, the confusing phenomenon of thinking someone is a total jerk and not ever wanting to see them again while, at the same time, feeling so much affection and wanting to be close again, albeit without the romance.

Well, it probably should be embarrassing for me to admit that this stupid dream meant something to me. Or that I felt a tinge of disappointment when I awoke to find it was only my imagination. Not chagrined enough to get bent out of shape, I sighed and chuckled at my emotional persistence in holding on, for several months now, to some hope for reconciliation, then I shrugged, climbed out of bed and got ready for work. So I still haven't completely "let go" of things, apparently. Dang. But hey, I'm genetically flawed.

I've experienced something similar with a couple of other friendships, but we were able to talk through it, and we each gave a little and worked things out or are still doing so. These others are different somehow.

How is it I can think someone was such a dirtbag to me and feel a desire to kiss and make up at the same time? It's weird, and it's wrong, and I'm not used to it, and it's not on my top ten list of fun emotions. I'm used to making and keeping friends, albeit slowly. I'm not used to losing them. I'm a pack rat. Pack rats don't lose things, we might set them down for a while, but we fully intend to keep them. *shrug* I'm also not used to wondering how I'd react if I ran into someone, whether I'd feel casual and indifferent, or I'd want to hug them, or I'd have to force a smile and some civil greeting while cursing them under my breath with nasty words. Being a puzzle-solver, I want to believe there's a way to solve this. I hate when I can't solve a puzzle, but I'm learning to let go when I realize the pieces I need are in someone else's clutches or when solving it is maybe not priority number one.

So I'm left wishing things were different, wishing that a couple of friendships were better for me than they are, but unable to see a way to get there and refusing to go back to things as they were. Trying to talk things through only went so far. It seems a couple of friendships are possibly beyond repair, at least for now, and to some degree, I've come to terms with that. So it seems all that's left, for now, is to wish. Or to let go completely. Damn my genetic flaw that makes it so hard to let go completely and makes me dream of holding hands tenderly with putzes.