Just a warning, this might be a long one. Not sure yet!
We last left off at the end of June, just before I got sick. Have you ever had strep throat? If not, DON'T EVER GET IT! And for those of you who have, you know all about the complete Hell I endured for about a week. Not to mention the accompanying depression, which was completely unforseen! Anyway, I was out with Edward & Sparkles at Blake's on Saturday evening before Pride weekend, and I felt as though the headache and body aches I was starting to feel were getting worse. I went home, planning on having some Tylenol, and going back out, but I ended up lying on my sofa, and then going to bed at midnight! Yes, for me, going to bed before midnight rarely happens, especially on a Saturday night! OMG! I slept for seventeen hours, until 5:00 pm the next day, and I felt like a sickness had come over me and had infiltrated every region of my body. My throat was in extreme pain, and eating was next to impossible. Each part of my body ached, and moving around the apartment was a chore. Even though I felt the way I did, I thought it would go away, because I don't really get sick. But on Tuesday, I had to call in sick to the gym, and Jay, my friend & boss, wasn't happy with me. He suggested going to the doctor (which I wouldn't have done, except he mentioned it), so I called my new Atlanta doctor, and I went in that afternoon.
I thought about asking someone to drive me, but I thought I would have a tough time finding someone during the day on a Tuesday, so I told myself that I had to drive, and that everything would be okay. So, I got in my car, said the Serenity Prayer a few times, and drove, like an old man, all the way to the doctor's office. He gave me antibiotics, told me to shovel ibuprofen into myself every few hours (because I also had a high fever), and said I'd be better by the weekend. He's gay, and he knew what weekend it was. ;-)
As I slowly improved, depression set in, and with all the channels cable has to offer, I ran out of TV to watch. Things like laundry, I knew I could do even though I was sick, but I had no motivation to do anything around my apartment. I barely even went online, and there's nothing easier than that. I checked my MySpace probably a couple of times in that whole week. I knew that if I picked up the Big Book or something inspirational to read, I'd feel better. But depression affects me in a way that it controls my thoughts by keeping me from doing the things that will make me feel better, and thus I stay in an unhealthy mental state. I recently bought Congnitive Behavioral Therapy for Dummies because I've looked into it, and it seems to be the next step after recovery material, like the Big Book. It's very similar, and it makes sense to me. And the For Dummies book promises to make me my own therapist. I had plenty of time to read it, but I never opened it that week. Depression doesn't make sense. For those of you who've suffered from it, you know what I mean.
The most important project of the week was totally neglected by me. Atlanta's Gay Pride was only a couple of days away, and I was thinking at this point, that we wasted a lot of money reserving a booth for Abode Realty. I felt bad in every sense of the word. I kind of felt like a failure the terrible way I felt before I stopped drinking. Here I am living in sobriety, and I can't even handle putting together a booth for Pride. To my surprise, Roel, my broker, was working on it! But why? Isn't Roel straight?? Once it wasn't too painful to speak on the phone, I called Roel and learned that he and a gay friend were putting together a booth that would be real estate and these beautiful home decor pieces that Roel sells in one of his other businesses. But isn't he going to be afraid of all the gay people at the Civic Center?? No matter, I met up with him and Regan (gay male friend, hmmm) on Friday evening at the booth where we opened at 6 pm. I was a little drained, but able to eat and walk. I also was no longer contaigious.
It felt so good to be around people! I am a true believer that we all need each other, and although I was still a bit weak, I was so happy and excited to be around everyone. In fact, after we closed at 9 pm, I went out. I had to explain the those I encountered that I was no longer contaigious, and the kiss they just gave me wasn't a death sentence. It was fun, but I stayed for only a short time. The next day, I was back at the booth at the Civic Center, which, by the way, was a weird place for a Gay Pride Festival, because the festival took place in a parking lot. It wasn't half bad, though, because every so often, someone I knew would come say "Hi!"
At some point during the day, Roel & I were sitting together in the booth, and we started talking about personal things. Up to this point, he & I had a strictly professional relationship, as broker and agent. But at the festival, we had plenty of time to chat. I knew he knew I was gay because you'd have to be from Southern Georgia to not know. (For some reason, people from that region of the world can't tell I'm gay.) I'm pretty obviously gay, so I just assume that everyone knows. He asked me if I was dating anyone, and he asked me about passed relationships. I'm an open book when comes to such things, so I spoke openly about being single for a year-and-a-half, and about my failed marriage to my ex-husband, Jeremy. He then told me that he's been seeing his friend, Regan, someone who's been helping out in our office while we didn't have an administrative assistant. I knew Regan was gay, because he's like me; pretty obvious. But Roel is older and Phillipino, and I always assumed that he was straight, so when he told me this, I was like, "Oh My God!"
"What??" Roel asked.
"Oh my god!" I gasped again.
Roel, at this point was thinking I knew Regan on another level. "What's the matter?"
"I feel so silly now because I always thought you were straight!" I said.
"Me?? Oh puhleeeease!!"
Later, I went for a walk around the festival, and when I came back, Regan & Roel were laughing at me. I felt really silly, but I also still thought it was funny, and we all laughed for a while. So, from time-to-time, my gaydar isn't 100%, and that's fine, because I'm not perfect, and things stay interesting.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
A Big, Gay Gym...and a Gay Beach
Wow! It's been a minute since my last blog, so I'm going to cover quite a bit today. Having my life back after working at Joe's on Juniper has been enjoyable, but it also has brought back familiar challenges that I didn't have to deal with while working within the confines of a mandatory schedule. You see, I'm a disciplined person with plenty of room for improvement, and when I have a job where I'm treated like a number with a schedule I have to stick to, I tend to obey those restrictions. When I'm working for myself, and the only person who is holding me accountable is myself, I kind of behave like water outside of the container I should be confined to. I guess I've been fighting discipline and punctuality my whole life as a form of rebellion.
In the last year & a half, I've learned that happiness does not come with simply following my will wherever it leads me, but instead, taming my will by trying to do the next right thing actually allows for more peace and serenity in life. So, once I left Joe's I found myself with more free time than I had been used to since starting at the restaurant in February. Before I left, I got another part-time job at Gravity Fitness, working along side one of my recently-acquired best-friends, Jay, and I absolutely love working there! It's a far healthier atmosphere, with little or no stress, and a schedule that allows me to service the new listings and leads I've acquired since leaving Joe's. The real estate market is so unpredictable right now, but we've heard from dependable sources that we, as a nation in crisis, have hit bottom, and things will only go up from here. This is excellent and encouraging news for those of us who have been sticking it out in real estate with the hope of better times.
So, working at Gravity is a trip! People absolutely gravitate to Jay! I don't remember the last time I've seen someone as adored as he is throughout the gay community in Atlanta. It is a blessing to have him as a friend. He is a very sweet and funny person with a personality that attracts everyone. So, he is the assistant manager at the gym, and his ex, James, is the 38-year-old, hunky, laid-back, flashy owner of Gravity and WetBar. At first, I found James to be intimidating because of the bickering that goes on between the two. But now that I've been there for a bit, I enjoy James's quick, yet indifferent, wit.
The clients of the gym are 99% gay men. Need I say more? I don't know why I didn't think of this type of job before! I told Jay that I'd better be hit on at the gym or I'm quitting! I do have a thing for the men who are attentive to their physiques, but I'm also cautious of the same men because of their self-centeredness. I'll happily make compromises as those situations occur. I'm not sure if the clientele know what to think of me yet, but they're friendly, and that's really all I ask. Besides, what they think of me is none of my business; and I'm there to attend to their needs. So, it's a fun, easy job, where I can socialize while I make some extra much-needed cash, and get out of my own head.
Also, since I left Joe's, I had the opportunity to go away for a weekend with a bunch of sober friends. My friends, Eric and Rand, who attend meetings at Galano, were planning on spending a weekend on Kiawah Island, South Carolina. When they heard that I was no longer enslaved at Joe's, they invited me along. I, in turn, invited my friend Chris, who was celebrating his One-Year of Sobriety that weekend to come with us. Eric's friend, Brett, also in recovery and a server at Roxx, came as well. It was a low-key, relaxing weekend at Eric's family house in an exclusive complex along the ocean just south of Charleston. We also went in to Charleston for some delicious seafood, a tour of the historic city, and of course, the local gay bar. Chris and I argued all weekend about which one of us would succeed in sleeping with Eric, who is a 35-year-old, blonde, hunky, doctor; but we were both too chicken to make a move. I forgot to mention that we went to a gay meeting in Charleston on Saturday before our night on the town, and shares were not voluntary! I was called on after only two people shared, and my mind went blank. I forgot what the topic of the meeting was, so I said something about being grateful for gay meetings all over the country. I think maybe the older fellows liked me and wanted me to speak. I don't blame them. On Sunday, we decided to go Charleston's gay beach, which we knew wouldn't be like South Beach, but there were a handful of guys hanging around, and a few recognized us from the meeting the previous evening. We hung out with them under the overcast sky and made the best of our "gay beach" experience. It was great to hang out with the guys and escape Atlanta for a weekend. Now, of course, I want to travel more!
In the last year & a half, I've learned that happiness does not come with simply following my will wherever it leads me, but instead, taming my will by trying to do the next right thing actually allows for more peace and serenity in life. So, once I left Joe's I found myself with more free time than I had been used to since starting at the restaurant in February. Before I left, I got another part-time job at Gravity Fitness, working along side one of my recently-acquired best-friends, Jay, and I absolutely love working there! It's a far healthier atmosphere, with little or no stress, and a schedule that allows me to service the new listings and leads I've acquired since leaving Joe's. The real estate market is so unpredictable right now, but we've heard from dependable sources that we, as a nation in crisis, have hit bottom, and things will only go up from here. This is excellent and encouraging news for those of us who have been sticking it out in real estate with the hope of better times.
So, working at Gravity is a trip! People absolutely gravitate to Jay! I don't remember the last time I've seen someone as adored as he is throughout the gay community in Atlanta. It is a blessing to have him as a friend. He is a very sweet and funny person with a personality that attracts everyone. So, he is the assistant manager at the gym, and his ex, James, is the 38-year-old, hunky, laid-back, flashy owner of Gravity and WetBar. At first, I found James to be intimidating because of the bickering that goes on between the two. But now that I've been there for a bit, I enjoy James's quick, yet indifferent, wit.
The clients of the gym are 99% gay men. Need I say more? I don't know why I didn't think of this type of job before! I told Jay that I'd better be hit on at the gym or I'm quitting! I do have a thing for the men who are attentive to their physiques, but I'm also cautious of the same men because of their self-centeredness. I'll happily make compromises as those situations occur. I'm not sure if the clientele know what to think of me yet, but they're friendly, and that's really all I ask. Besides, what they think of me is none of my business; and I'm there to attend to their needs. So, it's a fun, easy job, where I can socialize while I make some extra much-needed cash, and get out of my own head.
Also, since I left Joe's, I had the opportunity to go away for a weekend with a bunch of sober friends. My friends, Eric and Rand, who attend meetings at Galano, were planning on spending a weekend on Kiawah Island, South Carolina. When they heard that I was no longer enslaved at Joe's, they invited me along. I, in turn, invited my friend Chris, who was celebrating his One-Year of Sobriety that weekend to come with us. Eric's friend, Brett, also in recovery and a server at Roxx, came as well. It was a low-key, relaxing weekend at Eric's family house in an exclusive complex along the ocean just south of Charleston. We also went in to Charleston for some delicious seafood, a tour of the historic city, and of course, the local gay bar. Chris and I argued all weekend about which one of us would succeed in sleeping with Eric, who is a 35-year-old, blonde, hunky, doctor; but we were both too chicken to make a move. I forgot to mention that we went to a gay meeting in Charleston on Saturday before our night on the town, and shares were not voluntary! I was called on after only two people shared, and my mind went blank. I forgot what the topic of the meeting was, so I said something about being grateful for gay meetings all over the country. I think maybe the older fellows liked me and wanted me to speak. I don't blame them. On Sunday, we decided to go Charleston's gay beach, which we knew wouldn't be like South Beach, but there were a handful of guys hanging around, and a few recognized us from the meeting the previous evening. We hung out with them under the overcast sky and made the best of our "gay beach" experience. It was great to hang out with the guys and escape Atlanta for a weekend. Now, of course, I want to travel more!
Saturday, June 7, 2008
What's Left of Me?
One thing I dislike more than many things is reading or listening to someone complain, and that is not the point of my blog, so I'm going to tell you about how my employment with Joe's on Juniper came to an end with the least whining possible. I guess it was just a matter of time, as it is in the restaurant industry. Working at Joe's is tough, and since we've enjoyed summertime weather for the passed several weeks, the restaurant has been very busy. When we're busy, it's not any one's intention to take advantage of the servers, but we have to work harder and longer hours. When I returned from New York after Memorial Day Weekend, my schedule at Joe's had drastically changed. I was scheduled to work back-to-back doubles all week, and at first I was upset to the point that I almost quit. I remembered that in recovery, I must live on "life's terms," not my terms, so I didn't share my disgust and accepted my schedule, and worked it. However, I told Mika, our manager who arranges the schedule that I would soon be cutting my hours back to focus more on real estate. The market has recently shown indication that better times are on the way; in fact, I acquired a new listing this passed week. I also told Mika that I would not be at their disposal for Gay Pride Weekend because I would be manning the Abode Realty booth the entire weekend. I worked almost sixty hours that week at Joe's, and did it again this passed week.
Change was on my mind when I decided to email my old sponsor who I stopped calling just after I started working at Joe's in February. If you know a thing or two about recovery, you know that I am supposed to call my sponsor on a regular basis, which I haven't done partially because of my overwhelming schedule. I emailed him to tell him that I'm doing well, and that I just celebrated a year and a half of sobriety on June 4th. He and his girlfriend have been very busy with their newborn baby girl, and I wanted to see how the new family was doing. The next day he called me, and it was so wonderful to hear his voice and to catch up with him. He is one of the biggest reasons why I have stayed sober for eighteen months without relapse, and I owe him a huge debt of gratitude. Fatherhood has been treating him well, and the baby actually sleeps completely through the night! What a blessing!
When I told him about my schedule, and how my AA meetings have become very infrequent, he showed much concern. I told him things were about to change, and my recovery would soon become the top priority it should always be, before work, before boys, before anything.
That night at Joe's, we were understaffed, and it was Crazy Bitch Bingo night, which is drawing quite a crowd, thanks to the antics of our very funny server, Bryen. Long story short, we were slammed and didn't have the support necessary, especially when one of our servers, completely overwhelmed, walked out on an entire section of the inside restaurant and quit. It really was a bit of a nightmare.
So, when I got home last night after 3 a.m., I emailed Mika a resignation letter explaining that I can't keep up with the demanding schedule. I honestly feel bad about it, but I know myself, and I knew I would be useless on only four hours of sleep per night. And I meant it when I wrote in my letter that it was a pleasure to work there. I've gained some really fun friends in the experience, and I will always have a respect and admiration for those in the service industry.
It's late afternoon, and I'm having some coffee. I just got off the phone with a very good friend who also happens to be an alcoholic. I just told him about how Joe's is no more, so plans were made for the 8 p.m. meeting at the Galano Club where we'll watch another friend pick up a chip to symbolize his multiple years without a drink, and then we'll all go out to dinner to celebrate. And who knows, maybe we'll head to WetBar for some after-dinner diet Cokes!
Wow! I suddenly have a life again!
Change was on my mind when I decided to email my old sponsor who I stopped calling just after I started working at Joe's in February. If you know a thing or two about recovery, you know that I am supposed to call my sponsor on a regular basis, which I haven't done partially because of my overwhelming schedule. I emailed him to tell him that I'm doing well, and that I just celebrated a year and a half of sobriety on June 4th. He and his girlfriend have been very busy with their newborn baby girl, and I wanted to see how the new family was doing. The next day he called me, and it was so wonderful to hear his voice and to catch up with him. He is one of the biggest reasons why I have stayed sober for eighteen months without relapse, and I owe him a huge debt of gratitude. Fatherhood has been treating him well, and the baby actually sleeps completely through the night! What a blessing!
When I told him about my schedule, and how my AA meetings have become very infrequent, he showed much concern. I told him things were about to change, and my recovery would soon become the top priority it should always be, before work, before boys, before anything.
That night at Joe's, we were understaffed, and it was Crazy Bitch Bingo night, which is drawing quite a crowd, thanks to the antics of our very funny server, Bryen. Long story short, we were slammed and didn't have the support necessary, especially when one of our servers, completely overwhelmed, walked out on an entire section of the inside restaurant and quit. It really was a bit of a nightmare.
So, when I got home last night after 3 a.m., I emailed Mika a resignation letter explaining that I can't keep up with the demanding schedule. I honestly feel bad about it, but I know myself, and I knew I would be useless on only four hours of sleep per night. And I meant it when I wrote in my letter that it was a pleasure to work there. I've gained some really fun friends in the experience, and I will always have a respect and admiration for those in the service industry.
It's late afternoon, and I'm having some coffee. I just got off the phone with a very good friend who also happens to be an alcoholic. I just told him about how Joe's is no more, so plans were made for the 8 p.m. meeting at the Galano Club where we'll watch another friend pick up a chip to symbolize his multiple years without a drink, and then we'll all go out to dinner to celebrate. And who knows, maybe we'll head to WetBar for some after-dinner diet Cokes!
Wow! I suddenly have a life again!
Friday, May 30, 2008
Too little sleep & even less Coffee
I'm flying back to Atlanta, and I feel like the weekend went by so quickly. I don't know if it's because I didn't do everything I wanted to do, like hang out with some old friends, or because so much happened in such a short time. Each hour seemed action-packed; in fact, I even sacrificed precious sleep time so as not to miss a moment.
My parents picked me up at the airport at 10 pm, and we made the ten-minute drive to the house I grew up in. Margot, my relatively new sister-in-law greeted me, and soon Billy & Seamus also joined us. We sat around the kitchen table that night and talked about Margot's pregnancy, my latest goings-on, crazy trouble my brothers' & I got into as kids, and what it's like to be as old as my parents, until three in the morning.
We all slept pretty late the next day, and once I was awake and feeling alive, I felt a bit trapped without a car. So, my mom & I went back to the airport and rented a Pontiac Grand Prix. I had one on a previous trip and decided that it had the pick-up I'd need if I decided to venture into the city and compete with the agressive and self-righteous driver's of Manhattan. With my new, rented freedom, I went to Greenwich Avenue, the Rodeo Drive of the Northeast, and did a little shopping.
On previous trips, I've given my brothers the opportunity to plan the evening outings, but because they are painfully indecisive and plans could take hours before fruition, I made plans to meet up with my friend, Michelle, at a bar in White Plains before heading solo into Manhattan for a circuit-like party at Webster Hall.
Billy & I met up with Michelle and her siblings at the Brazen Fox in White Plains where one of the sisters was celebrating her twenty-first. Michelle & I caught up on things we've been doing recently, and we told some stories about fun times in high school. Seamus ended up meeting us there almost an hour later. It was getting late, and Alegria was calling my name.
Every other month or so, thousands of shirtless, swirling & twirling gay men get together for a huge, all-night party called Alegria, which is Spanish for "joyfull." I've always wanted to go, but I had never been in New York when one was occurring, so I decided that tonight was going to be the night.
I stepped into Webster Hall, a huge and famous nightclub that is featured in the beginning clips of "To, Wong Fu," paid the seventy-dollar cover charge, and joined the party. I've been to many cities in the US, Canada, Mexico, & Europe, and aside from Barcelona, New York has always had the best-looking gay community. But on this night, all the Hotties must have been out of town in Fire Island or Provincetown, because the sea of shirtless men left much to be desired. I wasn't looking for Mr. Right or even for Mr. Right Now! but one does enjoy a grope by a Cutie every so often. No matter. I toured the huge, old building before I settled at a spot at the bar next to the dance floor to enjoy an energizing Red Bull on ice. World-class DJ Tony Moran was at the turntables, and I really started to feel the music, so I took my shirt off, finished my drink, and joined the throngs of men on the dance floor. For a minute, it amazed me how enjoyable the music was even though I was totally sober! It was a serene feeling.
Back at the bar, a drag queen was telling me how beautiful my eyes were. She was sweet and her friend was sorta cute, so we all danced together, and then met more guys on the dance floor. Somehow, over the course of several hours, Flavio, the boy in drag, and I realized we both worked in the Burlington Mall in Massachusetts at the same time several years ago. He used to "cruise" me by pretending to browse in my store. I was very flattered, and he was so happy to be partying with me. I was having a wonderful time, but when I looked at my watch at eight in the morning, I told my new friends I had to leave. I had a baby shower to be at in the afternoon.
I stepped out into the morning sun and walked to my car parked only a couple of blocks away. I felt as though I should have been "cracked out" and embarrassed to be in public, but I was sober. And New York is really stunning in the morning.
I woke up to objects being thrown at my old bedroom's window at about 2:30 in the afternoon. Seamus was trying to wake me up for the baby shower in the back yard that was already in full swing. I showered and did everything I could to not look sleep-deprived and joined the party. Mother made me some cheap coffee which I complained to her about, partially in jest. I love to give my parents a hard time, so as everyone was drinking alcohol, I mixed some juices together and told them I made a "drink" and took a sip. I'm such a bad son. My father immediately realized I was joking, but my mother's horrified look took a few seconds to turn into a relieved smile. :D
I had the opportunity to meet many of Margot's international group of friends at the party. Many of them know each other from their English (as a second language) studies. She & Billy opened their baby gifts to the applause of the guests while I got Mother drunk with cheap red wine (That's what she wanted to drink!) She's funnier when she's drunk, and since she drinks so sporadically, it doesn't take much. "You now need to drink for both of us!" I explained to her, as she bobbed her head in agreement.
The party was a success, and it was time to start thinking about the night's activities. Again, my brothers procrastinated, so at a quarter after eleven, I told them I was no longer waiting for their decision. I hopped into the Grand Prix, and headed back into the city.
HX Magazine recommends things to do in their column, "Homo Musts," which is where I read that the "Cock" in lower Manhattan was the place to be. I had never been, but I was trying to be fearless. I walked into the dark, sleazy bar and ordered a Red Bull. I looked around, and I was scared. It was a small, scary, ugly, hook-up bar with many older, unattractive men. The dancers who got up on the bar and a platform were also unattractive, but the one closest to me whipped it out for the patrons to examine. A younger, studious-looking blonde guy started talking to me. We chatted for a bit, and he told me he was fairly new to New York from Regina, Saskatchewan. He was very sweet as he hit on me, but I wasn't interested.
I decided it was time to check out Spash Bar, my old favorite. I walked in and was pleasantly suprised to see how busy it was. I had decided that Spash had gone downhill since, recently, it didn't have the same pull it did in the good old days. The bartenders were in hot, skimpy sailor garb, and the whole place had a naval theme. The music was great, but again, the crowd wasn't all that pretty. However, I did meet a beautiful Danish/Spanish guy who was easily the best looking guy in the club. We spoke for a while, and even flirted quite a bit. I ended up staying much later than I expected to because of this new development as we were very drawn to each other, but unfortunately, he was returning to Copenhagen in a couple of days. Just my luck!
I spent the next day at home with my parents, brothers, and new sister, Margot. We talked a little bit about the upcoming summer events, like the birth of the new family member in July, and the wedding of a childhood friend over the Labor Day weekend. So, as I readied my things before my flight, we said our "goodbyes" knowing it wouldn't be long before we were all together again.
My parents picked me up at the airport at 10 pm, and we made the ten-minute drive to the house I grew up in. Margot, my relatively new sister-in-law greeted me, and soon Billy & Seamus also joined us. We sat around the kitchen table that night and talked about Margot's pregnancy, my latest goings-on, crazy trouble my brothers' & I got into as kids, and what it's like to be as old as my parents, until three in the morning.
We all slept pretty late the next day, and once I was awake and feeling alive, I felt a bit trapped without a car. So, my mom & I went back to the airport and rented a Pontiac Grand Prix. I had one on a previous trip and decided that it had the pick-up I'd need if I decided to venture into the city and compete with the agressive and self-righteous driver's of Manhattan. With my new, rented freedom, I went to Greenwich Avenue, the Rodeo Drive of the Northeast, and did a little shopping.
On previous trips, I've given my brothers the opportunity to plan the evening outings, but because they are painfully indecisive and plans could take hours before fruition, I made plans to meet up with my friend, Michelle, at a bar in White Plains before heading solo into Manhattan for a circuit-like party at Webster Hall.
Billy & I met up with Michelle and her siblings at the Brazen Fox in White Plains where one of the sisters was celebrating her twenty-first. Michelle & I caught up on things we've been doing recently, and we told some stories about fun times in high school. Seamus ended up meeting us there almost an hour later. It was getting late, and Alegria was calling my name.
Every other month or so, thousands of shirtless, swirling & twirling gay men get together for a huge, all-night party called Alegria, which is Spanish for "joyfull." I've always wanted to go, but I had never been in New York when one was occurring, so I decided that tonight was going to be the night.
I stepped into Webster Hall, a huge and famous nightclub that is featured in the beginning clips of "To, Wong Fu," paid the seventy-dollar cover charge, and joined the party. I've been to many cities in the US, Canada, Mexico, & Europe, and aside from Barcelona, New York has always had the best-looking gay community. But on this night, all the Hotties must have been out of town in Fire Island or Provincetown, because the sea of shirtless men left much to be desired. I wasn't looking for Mr. Right or even for Mr. Right Now! but one does enjoy a grope by a Cutie every so often. No matter. I toured the huge, old building before I settled at a spot at the bar next to the dance floor to enjoy an energizing Red Bull on ice. World-class DJ Tony Moran was at the turntables, and I really started to feel the music, so I took my shirt off, finished my drink, and joined the throngs of men on the dance floor. For a minute, it amazed me how enjoyable the music was even though I was totally sober! It was a serene feeling.
Back at the bar, a drag queen was telling me how beautiful my eyes were. She was sweet and her friend was sorta cute, so we all danced together, and then met more guys on the dance floor. Somehow, over the course of several hours, Flavio, the boy in drag, and I realized we both worked in the Burlington Mall in Massachusetts at the same time several years ago. He used to "cruise" me by pretending to browse in my store. I was very flattered, and he was so happy to be partying with me. I was having a wonderful time, but when I looked at my watch at eight in the morning, I told my new friends I had to leave. I had a baby shower to be at in the afternoon.
I stepped out into the morning sun and walked to my car parked only a couple of blocks away. I felt as though I should have been "cracked out" and embarrassed to be in public, but I was sober. And New York is really stunning in the morning.
I woke up to objects being thrown at my old bedroom's window at about 2:30 in the afternoon. Seamus was trying to wake me up for the baby shower in the back yard that was already in full swing. I showered and did everything I could to not look sleep-deprived and joined the party. Mother made me some cheap coffee which I complained to her about, partially in jest. I love to give my parents a hard time, so as everyone was drinking alcohol, I mixed some juices together and told them I made a "drink" and took a sip. I'm such a bad son. My father immediately realized I was joking, but my mother's horrified look took a few seconds to turn into a relieved smile. :D
I had the opportunity to meet many of Margot's international group of friends at the party. Many of them know each other from their English (as a second language) studies. She & Billy opened their baby gifts to the applause of the guests while I got Mother drunk with cheap red wine (That's what she wanted to drink!) She's funnier when she's drunk, and since she drinks so sporadically, it doesn't take much. "You now need to drink for both of us!" I explained to her, as she bobbed her head in agreement.
The party was a success, and it was time to start thinking about the night's activities. Again, my brothers procrastinated, so at a quarter after eleven, I told them I was no longer waiting for their decision. I hopped into the Grand Prix, and headed back into the city.
HX Magazine recommends things to do in their column, "Homo Musts," which is where I read that the "Cock" in lower Manhattan was the place to be. I had never been, but I was trying to be fearless. I walked into the dark, sleazy bar and ordered a Red Bull. I looked around, and I was scared. It was a small, scary, ugly, hook-up bar with many older, unattractive men. The dancers who got up on the bar and a platform were also unattractive, but the one closest to me whipped it out for the patrons to examine. A younger, studious-looking blonde guy started talking to me. We chatted for a bit, and he told me he was fairly new to New York from Regina, Saskatchewan. He was very sweet as he hit on me, but I wasn't interested.
I decided it was time to check out Spash Bar, my old favorite. I walked in and was pleasantly suprised to see how busy it was. I had decided that Spash had gone downhill since, recently, it didn't have the same pull it did in the good old days. The bartenders were in hot, skimpy sailor garb, and the whole place had a naval theme. The music was great, but again, the crowd wasn't all that pretty. However, I did meet a beautiful Danish/Spanish guy who was easily the best looking guy in the club. We spoke for a while, and even flirted quite a bit. I ended up staying much later than I expected to because of this new development as we were very drawn to each other, but unfortunately, he was returning to Copenhagen in a couple of days. Just my luck!
I spent the next day at home with my parents, brothers, and new sister, Margot. We talked a little bit about the upcoming summer events, like the birth of the new family member in July, and the wedding of a childhood friend over the Labor Day weekend. So, as I readied my things before my flight, we said our "goodbyes" knowing it wouldn't be long before we were all together again.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Enjoying the Moment
I'm on a small Boeing 717 en route to New York, listening to Sunset Bouelvard on XM Broadway. The plane taxied on the tarmac for just over an hour, and now I have no way of letting my parents know that I'll be landing late. It's okay though, because Westchester County Airport is conveniently down the street from the house I grew up in. I'll text Seamus & Billy (my brothers) when we land. The delay also allowed me to nap a bit after a hectic dash to Atlanta's airport, so I'm not complaining.
I have a habit of biting off slightly more than I can chew, and today was no exception. I figured that since my flight didn't depart until 6:40 p.m., I would have plenty of time to work at Joe's on Juniper during lunchtime, get home and pack, and then take MARTA to the airport. Now, before you call me insane, I succeeded! But, just barely. Yes, there is a fine line between insanity & Kevin Malin, but normally, I work no more than a few hours during lunch, and then I'm free to leave the restaurant around 2:30. Today, we were a bit busy, so around 3, I became nervous, and so I told our cranky & silly manager, Steve, that I needed to catch a flight. Instead of biting my head off, he asked me to call from the airport to let him know I arrived in time. He has a heart, after all! In the meantime, the warm and sunny day people were enjoying out on our patio suddenly turned into monsoon season, which quickly soaked me to the bone as I ran to my Rodeo parked on 11th. I got home at 4 p.m., fed Pumba & Simba, told them I was leaving to visit Grandma & Grandpa, but that I would be back on Monday night, and then turned on Hard Candy. In no more than fifteen minutes, I was packed and walking out the door, back into the torrential downpour. The Lindbergh MARTA station is a couple of blocks from my home, so I actually made it to the airport with enough time to have a quick sandwich before boarding my flight.
In the passed decade, I've become quite the deft traveler. Since, September 11th, I've flown three to four times per year and I've adapted comfortably with changing security measures. Today, I actually packed only one back which I checked; I was probably the only passenger who boarded without carrying anything but a boarding pass.
I'm currently at a point in my recovery where I make an effort to focus on the moment instead of anxiously awaiting the future, or morbidly reflecting on the past. I thought of this while I was at the airport, and it made me grateful to be taking a trip. Every aspect of my little weekend adventure has occurred without drama, and if you knew me only a couple of years ago, this would be hard to believe. Also, I enjoyed the piece of mind knowing I forgot nothing, and I enjoyed resting once on the MARTA. And nothing thrills me more than flying over a dozen states in a jet to another region of the country. There is something very exciting about flying that never gets old for me no matter how much I travel.
So, I'll be on the ground in about an hour at Westchester's little luxury-boutique airport that happens to be far more convenient than LaGuardia. When I was a kid, I used to ride my bike to the airport, which was no bigger back then than a double-wide trailer. Now, it's practically a hub for Air Tran and Delta.
I'm happy to have a break from Joe's and Atlanta, in general. This weekend is already bringing much needed tranquility, a time that allows me to think about this particular point in my life, and how I can improve upon things. This is also an opportunity to do some work for my latest real estate lead; he's a police officer who needs to sell his home in Conyers before it's foreclosed upon. This is a situation millions of Americans are currently facing due to the housing crisis. If we can agree on a good price, I'll be able to help him avoid total credit destruction.
It's nightfall, and as I look out to the left of the aircraft, I see what I think is New Jersey. It's quite pretty from up here. Not dirty and smelly like New Yorkers so fondly describe it. So, for now, I'll savor this view and this moment and report back later in the weekend.
I have a habit of biting off slightly more than I can chew, and today was no exception. I figured that since my flight didn't depart until 6:40 p.m., I would have plenty of time to work at Joe's on Juniper during lunchtime, get home and pack, and then take MARTA to the airport. Now, before you call me insane, I succeeded! But, just barely. Yes, there is a fine line between insanity & Kevin Malin, but normally, I work no more than a few hours during lunch, and then I'm free to leave the restaurant around 2:30. Today, we were a bit busy, so around 3, I became nervous, and so I told our cranky & silly manager, Steve, that I needed to catch a flight. Instead of biting my head off, he asked me to call from the airport to let him know I arrived in time. He has a heart, after all! In the meantime, the warm and sunny day people were enjoying out on our patio suddenly turned into monsoon season, which quickly soaked me to the bone as I ran to my Rodeo parked on 11th. I got home at 4 p.m., fed Pumba & Simba, told them I was leaving to visit Grandma & Grandpa, but that I would be back on Monday night, and then turned on Hard Candy. In no more than fifteen minutes, I was packed and walking out the door, back into the torrential downpour. The Lindbergh MARTA station is a couple of blocks from my home, so I actually made it to the airport with enough time to have a quick sandwich before boarding my flight.
In the passed decade, I've become quite the deft traveler. Since, September 11th, I've flown three to four times per year and I've adapted comfortably with changing security measures. Today, I actually packed only one back which I checked; I was probably the only passenger who boarded without carrying anything but a boarding pass.
I'm currently at a point in my recovery where I make an effort to focus on the moment instead of anxiously awaiting the future, or morbidly reflecting on the past. I thought of this while I was at the airport, and it made me grateful to be taking a trip. Every aspect of my little weekend adventure has occurred without drama, and if you knew me only a couple of years ago, this would be hard to believe. Also, I enjoyed the piece of mind knowing I forgot nothing, and I enjoyed resting once on the MARTA. And nothing thrills me more than flying over a dozen states in a jet to another region of the country. There is something very exciting about flying that never gets old for me no matter how much I travel.
So, I'll be on the ground in about an hour at Westchester's little luxury-boutique airport that happens to be far more convenient than LaGuardia. When I was a kid, I used to ride my bike to the airport, which was no bigger back then than a double-wide trailer. Now, it's practically a hub for Air Tran and Delta.
I'm happy to have a break from Joe's and Atlanta, in general. This weekend is already bringing much needed tranquility, a time that allows me to think about this particular point in my life, and how I can improve upon things. This is also an opportunity to do some work for my latest real estate lead; he's a police officer who needs to sell his home in Conyers before it's foreclosed upon. This is a situation millions of Americans are currently facing due to the housing crisis. If we can agree on a good price, I'll be able to help him avoid total credit destruction.
It's nightfall, and as I look out to the left of the aircraft, I see what I think is New Jersey. It's quite pretty from up here. Not dirty and smelly like New Yorkers so fondly describe it. So, for now, I'll savor this view and this moment and report back later in the weekend.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
A Tough Choice: Family or Friends?
Today, I'm making my Memorial Day plans, and I have a fairly difficult decision to make. The unofficial beginning of summer used to involve a simple thought process: I'd grab my bike on Friday afternoon, board the Provincetown high-speed catamaran in Boston Harbor, and spend a party weekend in P-Town of drunken debauchery with thousands of other gay men. From what I remember, Memorial Day is a special weekend for the gay community because we can come together in large numbers, enjoy the beautiful weather, forget about work and the recent winter, and have a total blast!
This year, I have two options, both of which I'd like to partake in. The first option is similar to those crazy weekends in Provincetown, without the one social lubricant I used to love way too much. Several of my friends in recovery from substance abuse have invited me to join them for a sun-filled, sober weekend in Pensacola. To an Earth Person (the term alcoholics affectionately call our non-alcoholic friends), this may not sound very inviting. Why would anyone want to spend the weekend with lots of hot, gay men partying on the beach without alcohol? But I have so much more fun now, and this year, I'll actually remember the names of all the hotties I hook up with! Also, my friends in recovery have replaced the many drinking buddies I used to think were good friends. And spending time with them is actually a productive and important ingredient of my recovery. A large home on the beach has already been rented, and a wild, sober weekend is now pre-ordained!
If you've known me for a while, you may know that I'm a New Yorker, and I'm the only member of my family currently living in the South. You also may know that my family should have it's own soap opera. The drama that comprises my family is sometimes overwhelming, and it makes me grateful to be somewhat removed, geographically. I'm not going to get into it, but just thinking about my parents and two brothers raises my level of anxiety to Orange, so I'm going to pour myself a cup of coffee. Hold on a sec. :-)
Option Two involves travelling home for a very special baby shower. Last year in May, my older brother, Bill, eloped with his girlfriend, Margot (who still receives negative resistance from my parents), and since then, the rest of the family found out they got married, and now they're expecting their first child. This is big, because this is the first baby in the family since my little brother was born thirty years ago, and, aside from my 2 & 1/2 year marriage, I will be an uncle for the first time! And, my parents will have a grandchild! I'm so excited! However, the baby is not due until July 17th. So, the question is: How important is it that I am at the baby shower since I may be coming home for the baby's birth? Not to mention, I'm visiting New York for the wedding of a childhood friend Labor Day weekend. All this airfare is getting expensive, so what do I do?
In the past, my decision would be based on what I would enjoy more, but now that I live One Day at a Time, I strive to be a less selfish person. It's now less about me and more about us. At which event would I make more of a contribution? Which group needs me more? My friends or my family? Especially since the term friends is now more about the people I call on a regular basis, people I listen to when life seems a bit bleak, people I see at meetings. Sometimes, this includes the people I see while I'm out and about, but not usually.
Life for me now is about regulating my thoughts, paying attention to the good ones, and not entertaining the bad ones. This means staying out of my own crazy head with my own "problems" by helping other people. I can do this by simply spending time with friends and listening to them, and as a result, my mountains become molehills. But I'm also close to my family, and maybe I need to drop everything and spend time with them during a joyous time. Either way, I need to make this decision by the end of the weekend because planning ahead, I've heard, is part of growing-up, and at some point I need to tell Joe's on Juniper that I won't be in Atlanta for Memorial Day!
This year, I have two options, both of which I'd like to partake in. The first option is similar to those crazy weekends in Provincetown, without the one social lubricant I used to love way too much. Several of my friends in recovery from substance abuse have invited me to join them for a sun-filled, sober weekend in Pensacola. To an Earth Person (the term alcoholics affectionately call our non-alcoholic friends), this may not sound very inviting. Why would anyone want to spend the weekend with lots of hot, gay men partying on the beach without alcohol? But I have so much more fun now, and this year, I'll actually remember the names of all the hotties I hook up with! Also, my friends in recovery have replaced the many drinking buddies I used to think were good friends. And spending time with them is actually a productive and important ingredient of my recovery. A large home on the beach has already been rented, and a wild, sober weekend is now pre-ordained!
If you've known me for a while, you may know that I'm a New Yorker, and I'm the only member of my family currently living in the South. You also may know that my family should have it's own soap opera. The drama that comprises my family is sometimes overwhelming, and it makes me grateful to be somewhat removed, geographically. I'm not going to get into it, but just thinking about my parents and two brothers raises my level of anxiety to Orange, so I'm going to pour myself a cup of coffee. Hold on a sec. :-)
Option Two involves travelling home for a very special baby shower. Last year in May, my older brother, Bill, eloped with his girlfriend, Margot (who still receives negative resistance from my parents), and since then, the rest of the family found out they got married, and now they're expecting their first child. This is big, because this is the first baby in the family since my little brother was born thirty years ago, and, aside from my 2 & 1/2 year marriage, I will be an uncle for the first time! And, my parents will have a grandchild! I'm so excited! However, the baby is not due until July 17th. So, the question is: How important is it that I am at the baby shower since I may be coming home for the baby's birth? Not to mention, I'm visiting New York for the wedding of a childhood friend Labor Day weekend. All this airfare is getting expensive, so what do I do?
In the past, my decision would be based on what I would enjoy more, but now that I live One Day at a Time, I strive to be a less selfish person. It's now less about me and more about us. At which event would I make more of a contribution? Which group needs me more? My friends or my family? Especially since the term friends is now more about the people I call on a regular basis, people I listen to when life seems a bit bleak, people I see at meetings. Sometimes, this includes the people I see while I'm out and about, but not usually.
Life for me now is about regulating my thoughts, paying attention to the good ones, and not entertaining the bad ones. This means staying out of my own crazy head with my own "problems" by helping other people. I can do this by simply spending time with friends and listening to them, and as a result, my mountains become molehills. But I'm also close to my family, and maybe I need to drop everything and spend time with them during a joyous time. Either way, I need to make this decision by the end of the weekend because planning ahead, I've heard, is part of growing-up, and at some point I need to tell Joe's on Juniper that I won't be in Atlanta for Memorial Day!
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Mommy Dearest visits the ATL
It seems I have fallen into the reality TV trap once again. I'm in my living room having a late lunch and checking email/myspace, as I notice that there is another dance competition on Bravo, television for gay men & metrosexuals. It's called Step It Up & Dance, and at first glance it doesn't have enough appeal to retain my attention, which means there aren't any cute men in it. But I've made my judgement too quickly: there are some hotties in it, and although, it follows other shows exactly (a dancer is eliminated after each challenge), it's a good show. I've always been a fan of good choreography, and I love nothing more than amazing dancing. So, I'll refill my coffee cup and watch a couple of hours of episodes.
Today, my brain is catching up with the rest of my being as I relax on my first day off this week. Joe's has kept me very busy with tables full of partying gay boys and friendly trivia players. I was even secret-shopped on Friday, and although I only got a B+, Alice is happy because I'm a new server. Abode Realty has kept me almost as busy as I take on the challenge of my first short sale. This is a technique of saving a homeowner from foreclosure by negotiating with the bank to relieve the homeowner of the mortgage obligation. We're working in teams at the office and the team who completes a short sale first receives domestic airfare. What an incentive! I may not be on reality TV, but I'm a hell of a negotiator. I'm all about some healthy competition, so bring it on!
I have to talk a bit about my Mother because she's incredibly silly. This passed weekend, Mother came to visit Atlanta for the first time. My little brother, Seamus, lived in Atlanta several years ago, and Mother never visited. I've now been a resident of the ATL for over two years, and finally, she's come to visit. Normally, Mother would use a stale excuse to not visit. She's currently working in Palm Beach, so she flew up from there. She no longer has a cell phone and calling her at work is prohibited(according to her), so making plans for her visit was next to impossible. In addition, I wasn't aware of her plans until after the cut-off for making requests at Joe's; so altering my schedule was not going to be easy. Her initial plan was to fly in, take MARTA to Lindbergh, which is adjacent to my complex, and wait for me to get home from work. Crazy, right? Especially in crime-ridden Atlanta. I lucked out, though. My wonderful bosses at Joe's gave me the night off due to inclement weather and Mother's visit. So, I left Joe's and headed for Hartsfield-Jackson. I was excited to see Mother and show her around my new city. I was also very thankful that she was not going to have to find her way in an unknown place on her own, and in the rain. As I waiting in the receiving area of the terminal, I kept thinking that I had to pay close attention to the short people since Mother only stands at four feet, eleven inches (I'm over a foot taller than she). What if I miss her and she gets on MARTA? I started having scary thoughts and decided not to entertain them. Almost an hour after the flat-screens showed her flight as arrived, Mother emerged from the crowd, clutching to her bag and looking a little lost. I felt a twinge of pity, but then reminded myself that even at sixty-three, she is a resilient woman, having dealt with so much in her lifetime. We were both so happy to see each other, and I could now feel relieved that she would be coming home with me.
Mother got into my Isuzu Rodeo, which she had never seen, and was very pleased with my choice. I'm always excited to act as tour guide, so as we drove up to Midtown, I pointed out landmarks and buildings, including the Abode billboard I'm pictured in on Piedmont Ave. We decided to have dinner, so we went to Cowtippers'. It began to rain as we pulled in, so as we waited for the patio diners to be seated inside, I showed Mother my business card display in the restaurant's entryway. We had a tasty steak dinner, and then went to my home. The last time Mother saw my feline children, Pumba & Simba, was when Jeremy, my ex-husband, and I stopped in New York during our move from Boston to Atlanta in October of 2005. I was so happy to see the three of them reunited. I watched Mother sit on the floor and play with her grand cats. We resolved to buy them some toys tomorrow.
Mother let me sleep in the next day because she thinks I work a lot. Although I had that Saturday off, I still felt guilty about sleeping late. I was raised Catholic and am now in Recovery, but I still battle with guilt issues from time to time. We had "Blunch" at Joe's where Mother met some of my co-workers, and then went shopping. I allowed my refrigerator to empty as the days lead up to Mother's arrival because she enjoys taking me grocery shopping. It must be a maternal thing. As we shopped at Ansley Mall, I showed her Abode Realty. The foreclosures on our window excited her, and she actually considered moving to Atlanta from New York. Personally, I think my parents would enjoy living in Atlanta, and I encourage them to think about it, now that they're both senior citizens.
The Galano Club, the gay recovery center where I go to AA meetings was holding a fundraiser on Saturday night complete with drag kings & queens along with risque commentary. We decided to go, and Mother was so happy to experience a bit of my Recovery life. She wanted to donate all sorts of money, and I had to restrain her a bit because she can be quite a spendthrift. I introduced her to other recovering alcoholics and even some addicts, all wonderful people who have become friends of mine. Rand, a good friend of mine with over ten years of sobriety, greeted us upon arrival. My friend, Chris, gave a fun performance as he competed for Miss Pink Cloud. He has become one of my best Atlanta friends. My friend, Chandler, who is also poised to receive his nine-month green chip, performed DJ duties while clad in sexy leather attire. Afterwards, we stopped at Burkhart's to hang out with my friend, Frank for a few minutes. We went home and turned in after an exciting day.
We spent Sunday at my home eating and lounging about. In the evening, I worked at Joe's, and Mother watched old movies.
On Monday, we both slept in, and had to make a mad dash to the airport. It turned out to be a wonderful weekend that we both enjoyed. I'm happy Mother left with a good taste of Atlanta. Maybe her next visit to my home won't be in another four years! And this weekend was drama-free; how refreshing!
Today, my brain is catching up with the rest of my being as I relax on my first day off this week. Joe's has kept me very busy with tables full of partying gay boys and friendly trivia players. I was even secret-shopped on Friday, and although I only got a B+, Alice is happy because I'm a new server. Abode Realty has kept me almost as busy as I take on the challenge of my first short sale. This is a technique of saving a homeowner from foreclosure by negotiating with the bank to relieve the homeowner of the mortgage obligation. We're working in teams at the office and the team who completes a short sale first receives domestic airfare. What an incentive! I may not be on reality TV, but I'm a hell of a negotiator. I'm all about some healthy competition, so bring it on!
I have to talk a bit about my Mother because she's incredibly silly. This passed weekend, Mother came to visit Atlanta for the first time. My little brother, Seamus, lived in Atlanta several years ago, and Mother never visited. I've now been a resident of the ATL for over two years, and finally, she's come to visit. Normally, Mother would use a stale excuse to not visit. She's currently working in Palm Beach, so she flew up from there. She no longer has a cell phone and calling her at work is prohibited(according to her), so making plans for her visit was next to impossible. In addition, I wasn't aware of her plans until after the cut-off for making requests at Joe's; so altering my schedule was not going to be easy. Her initial plan was to fly in, take MARTA to Lindbergh, which is adjacent to my complex, and wait for me to get home from work. Crazy, right? Especially in crime-ridden Atlanta. I lucked out, though. My wonderful bosses at Joe's gave me the night off due to inclement weather and Mother's visit. So, I left Joe's and headed for Hartsfield-Jackson. I was excited to see Mother and show her around my new city. I was also very thankful that she was not going to have to find her way in an unknown place on her own, and in the rain. As I waiting in the receiving area of the terminal, I kept thinking that I had to pay close attention to the short people since Mother only stands at four feet, eleven inches (I'm over a foot taller than she). What if I miss her and she gets on MARTA? I started having scary thoughts and decided not to entertain them. Almost an hour after the flat-screens showed her flight as arrived, Mother emerged from the crowd, clutching to her bag and looking a little lost. I felt a twinge of pity, but then reminded myself that even at sixty-three, she is a resilient woman, having dealt with so much in her lifetime. We were both so happy to see each other, and I could now feel relieved that she would be coming home with me.
Mother got into my Isuzu Rodeo, which she had never seen, and was very pleased with my choice. I'm always excited to act as tour guide, so as we drove up to Midtown, I pointed out landmarks and buildings, including the Abode billboard I'm pictured in on Piedmont Ave. We decided to have dinner, so we went to Cowtippers'. It began to rain as we pulled in, so as we waited for the patio diners to be seated inside, I showed Mother my business card display in the restaurant's entryway. We had a tasty steak dinner, and then went to my home. The last time Mother saw my feline children, Pumba & Simba, was when Jeremy, my ex-husband, and I stopped in New York during our move from Boston to Atlanta in October of 2005. I was so happy to see the three of them reunited. I watched Mother sit on the floor and play with her grand cats. We resolved to buy them some toys tomorrow.
Mother let me sleep in the next day because she thinks I work a lot. Although I had that Saturday off, I still felt guilty about sleeping late. I was raised Catholic and am now in Recovery, but I still battle with guilt issues from time to time. We had "Blunch" at Joe's where Mother met some of my co-workers, and then went shopping. I allowed my refrigerator to empty as the days lead up to Mother's arrival because she enjoys taking me grocery shopping. It must be a maternal thing. As we shopped at Ansley Mall, I showed her Abode Realty. The foreclosures on our window excited her, and she actually considered moving to Atlanta from New York. Personally, I think my parents would enjoy living in Atlanta, and I encourage them to think about it, now that they're both senior citizens.
The Galano Club, the gay recovery center where I go to AA meetings was holding a fundraiser on Saturday night complete with drag kings & queens along with risque commentary. We decided to go, and Mother was so happy to experience a bit of my Recovery life. She wanted to donate all sorts of money, and I had to restrain her a bit because she can be quite a spendthrift. I introduced her to other recovering alcoholics and even some addicts, all wonderful people who have become friends of mine. Rand, a good friend of mine with over ten years of sobriety, greeted us upon arrival. My friend, Chris, gave a fun performance as he competed for Miss Pink Cloud. He has become one of my best Atlanta friends. My friend, Chandler, who is also poised to receive his nine-month green chip, performed DJ duties while clad in sexy leather attire. Afterwards, we stopped at Burkhart's to hang out with my friend, Frank for a few minutes. We went home and turned in after an exciting day.
We spent Sunday at my home eating and lounging about. In the evening, I worked at Joe's, and Mother watched old movies.
On Monday, we both slept in, and had to make a mad dash to the airport. It turned out to be a wonderful weekend that we both enjoyed. I'm happy Mother left with a good taste of Atlanta. Maybe her next visit to my home won't be in another four years! And this weekend was drama-free; how refreshing!
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