Clancy Nacht's Blog, page 11

The Nice Guys

I’ve been married for a long time. A LONG time. Since the 90s, in fact. The mid 90s. Back when the internet was new and only so many people were nerdy and/or adept enough to even be on it. You had to know a little UNIX and understand modems. Oh, it was ugly.

But one thing that hasn’t seemed to change are the Nice Guys.

At the time, and for a long while after, I kind of thought it was just this nerdy guy 90s thing: the Nice Guy. We didn’t really have a name for it. Back then I camped out–sometimes as a woman, sometimes as a man if I was getting bombarded with a/s/l questions. Frankly, I thought any guy who didn’t start a convo with ASL was pretty damn nice. I was new to the world and pretty naive.

And look, we all have girl friends who date the bad boys, who repeatedly go back to the jackass you can’t stand who belittles her and whatever other fuckery. It’s not like women always appear to have the best self-preservation skills when it comes to relationships. So, you know, I could see where guys were coming from saying women always choose the jerks. “But me, I’m a nice guy. I’d treat a woman well.”

And I, youthful idiot that I was, bought it.

This isn’t to say I didn’t have a world of awesome guy friends. Or guys I went out with. But at a certain point, I felt comfortable at my awesome job at an ad agency in Houston. It was on the night shift running production at the Williams Tower, which was locked down like Fort Knox because the building was shared by big oil interests. It was attached by a system of hallways to The Galleria, a premier shopping mall that boasted a year-round indoor ice skating rink.

I lived in a gated apartment complex. Ooh la la. Okay, most of the apartment complexes in Houston are gated, so it wasn’t THAT fancy, but it made me feel secure as a single woman living alone.

I had great friends. I was happy, but I wanted romance. I wanted someone to share this awesome life I’d built. It had been a good nine months since my previous relationship, which had been disastrous on so many levels. A musician. He kinda killed my cat on accident. It was… all of those nightmares you read about. I knew better than that now. I was going to date a nice guy.

Jesus. God.

I was on the night shift, but like I said, we were attached to the Galleria, and while weeknights might be sort of limited unless the date could start at 11 when I was officially off work, I could easily arrange a quick dinner at one of the many restaurants in the mall. You know, just to see if we sparked.

I met a man online–I think through a really primitive dating site–and… well… now there are whole Nice Guys of OK Cupid sites dedicated to dudes like him, but at the time I just thought, “This guy is hurting. No one will go out with him and he’s bitter. That’s okay. I’ll go out with him. I’m sure he’s nice underneath all of this defensiveness.”

What can I say? I was young. It’s such a classic idiot romance novel move, but you know, I write this stuff now, so it’s my impulse. One I’ve since learned to tell to take several seats. But I arranged to meet him at a restaurant at The Galleria. Immediately he starts questioning why I want to meet in such a public place.

Well, ‘cause I’ve never met you in person. You could be a psycho, haha.

I’M NOT A PSYCHO, HOW DARE YOU! rant rant rant rant

Deep breath. Okay, well even so, if you want to meet me, that’s my terms. I’d like to meet you; we both love Sisters of Mercy. Maybe at the very least we can be friends.

FRIENDS??! rant rant rant rant rant

The day I arranged is here, and this dude is just like… crazy. I’m starting to freak out. One of my male coworkers asks about it. I talk to him about the emails, and he asks if I’d like him to go with me.

Okay, so that’s super awkward, but I figure if the guy chills out, my friend can bounce back to work, no big.

The guy is not chill. The dude is crazy–like raising the hair on your arms crazy. He’s not just ranting in emails. He’s ranting under his breath, to himself, smiling when you ask what he said and says, “NOTHING!”

He sulks. He rants. He slams his hands on the table for emphasis.

Me and my coworker, we start holding hands. Not snuggling. Not romantic. We’re huddling together like two people about to meet their maker. We’re sitting at a La Madeleine and people are staring. They’re getting up and moving because this guy is like radioactive about to explode.

This is a nice guy?

For me, at a certain point when I am stressed, a preternatural calm takes over and it can be… kinda scary. When I’ve had enough and I’m quiet, when I think I’m about to meet my maker and frankly, I’ve got nothing to lose?

I got up. I told him never to talk to me again.

He muttered that he never had a chance, that I clearly had a boyfriend and blah blah blah, and let me tell you, I know there are people who will say that bringing another guy was inciting, but you know what? You’ve gotta tamp down on your crazy enough that someone is willing to be alone in public with you before you complain a girl won’t look at you twice. Because girls are looking at you, looking hard. And seeing a Wanted poster in your future. Get it together.

Now, you’d think I’d lick my wounds with that experiment and decide that maybe some of these Nice Guys are alone for a good fucking reason, but alas. No. I was pretty determined that there were some diamonds in the rough who just needed a woman and then they’d feel better about themselves and the world. Because look, that Elliot Rodgers dude? That’s what he was basically saying. If he got approval from a woman he was into, then he wouldn’t be psycho.

That’s not how it works. I think we all wish it would, but it doesn’t.

So I meet another guy. He’s not quite as bitter or angry. He’s sad. He’s sad because he works as a DJ at a strip club and women won’t date him because they’re insecure.

We all have girl friends who have a shit fit over their boyfriends watching porn. Porn of women who don’t look like them or whatever. Maybe it’s a little irrational to think that one person is all you need to look at in this world. And look, if the DJ wanted to date a stripper and not another woman, he wouldn’t be looking. I thought, “You know, I’m not a super raging jealous type. He sounds nice. Our hours are similar. Let’s try this out.”

I made a mistake. A big mistake. One that I absolutely never made again.

I let him know where I live.

Now, I lived in a gated community with an actual guard. So it wasn’t like you just give someone the code and they can get in and out forever. I had to give the guard his name, tell him specifically when the dude was coming by, and that would be the time he was allowed in.

(Okay, maybe it was a little snooty.)

It was a really casual thing. After work for the both of us, later because he didn’t get off work until 2, we went to WalMart or something, bought shelves and just chatted. He talked about his poetry, and while I wasn’t really feeling a spark, he seemed nice and like we could be friends. Maybe more once we got to know each other.

I mean, I’ll be honest, it didn’t feel like a spark on either side. He didn’t seem that interested. It was all a very casual thing where two people meet, it’s not that on, maybe we’ll hang out again, get coffee.

A couple of days later, he shows up at the apartment. No email. No call. I didn’t tell the security guard that he was coming, but he talked the guy into letting him through.

I’m not really a huge fan of people dropping by. If I know someone’s coming I can neaten up, dress nicer, not have removed my make up. Even if it’s a casual friend, I like to have my hairs did and all of that. I’ll put on my fancy caftan if we’re close and I’m feeling sloppy.

Nowadays, I just won’t answer the door if I’m not expecting anyone. This is why.

I opened the door. I was not pleased to see him. I asked how he got through security. I asked why he didn’t call first. My objections to him just showing up made him noticeably irritated. He started to fidget and grow aggressive. He shouted.

I asked him to leave, and he refused. When I would not let him in, he pushed on the door and moved bodily through.

I had been raped before. It was a good friend, someone I trusted. At the time, I was so caught up in confusion and upset that I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t fight.

This time, I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. He followed but then saw I had the knife, and he had the audacity to look surprised. After shouting at me that I was a bitch and forcing his way into my home, he was surprised I would brandish a weapon.

I led him out a knife point and told him to never fucking call me again. I made clear to the security guard to not let anyone on my behalf without strict instructions.

That was my last Nice Guy.

I know we kind of laugh and joke about these guys, and it’s such a shared experience among women, we all kind of know the malice at the root of it. Maybe the DJ just wanted me to calm down and talk things out, but you cross the threshold into my home, as far as I’m concerned, that’s a home invasion. If I were a man, no one would question my boundaries or defending my castle.

That’s the root of what makes the whole thing so frightening to women, where the gender role imbalance goes from something ephemeral to something lethal. It’s in those moments where Nice Guys kill Nice Girls and that’s why we’re afraid.

Filed under: about clancy, feels Tagged: feminism, personal, rant

I voted.

It used to be a point of pride for me to vote on Election Day. I wasn’t buying into this early voting shenanigans and honestly, I just thought it was more fun to be there in the spirit of voting with a small or large crowd. You know, whatever.

I worked for the city for a few years and where I worked was an early voting station so, you know, it was just too easy and I would just use my city ID to vote.

This is the first year in many that I’ve both waited until Election Day and didn’t have a city ID. I left my house and I kept like… feeling weird like I’d forgotten something. “Do I have on my dark blue v-neck voting t-shirt? Check. My driver’s license? Check. Then what? Oh right. I don’t need that.”

The first time I voted for Obama I did so with my husband on Election Day. He said we were going to the empty supermarket. I thought, “Okay, I guess that makes sense. More room for the machines if the supermarket is empty.”

We pull up to the Asian market and it is very much an active supermarket. “This isn’t an empty supermarket.”

“No. It’s the MT Supermarket.”

Right.

The second time I voted, I was 19 (okay, look, for whatever reason as a kid I was really into politics. I would tell my mom how to vote and then when I was 18 I was like OMG I AM SO VOTING NOW! and I waited for a couple of hours in line at a library with my boyfriend who was also into politics because that’s how I roll) I went to a Christian Scientist church to vote. There was no one there but Christians with test tubes.

Okay, so that’s not how Christian Scientist churches work, but it was very no fuss, no muss. I think mostly because I grew up in a suburb of Houston and most people thought Christian Scientists really did have test tubes where they were trying to make Jesus out of leftover genetic material. Or something like that.

Anyway, the point is that today I was looking to vote around 3 p.m. and I was worried that going to one of the many elementary schools that were designated polling places would have kids in them, as elementary schools tend to. Actually, I was more worried school would be letting out and I’d be in the middle of serious chaos, so I decided to go to one of the church places.

I’m not a church person. I was, briefly, in a very experimental time in my teens, an evangelical Christian. Oh yeah, I laid on hands. I spoke in tongues. I believed weird things about Christian Scientists. But churches themselves are often kind of neat and if you catch them at off hours, are pretty peaceful.

Somehow… I was unable to find Jesus. And by that I mean that I got lost on the way to the church. I thought I found it, I saw signs for voting and… ended up at an elementary school.

Fortunately, school was not letting out and I was able to nip in and nip out before any children noticed me (their vision is based on movement, so I had to time it just so.) Well, okay, so they were in classes, fine. The point is, I voted.

And if you voted and did get your sticker (the guy at the polling place I was at had his I Voted sticker on his forehead and I was both so amused and went through the process so fast, I forgot to get a sticker!) then look at the stuff you can get!

Don’t know where to go? Find your fucking polling place

Filed under: books

You’re Welcome. Love, Your Cat is now available in paperback!

Delighted to receive my paperback version of You’re Welcome. Love, Your Cat by myself and Thursday Euclid! So if you prefer a paperback version, here it is!

Blub: Since vowing celibacy over a decade ago, history professor and classic car aficionado Edwin Blais’s only comfort has been his dead partner’s cat, Francesca. When she gets lost, Edwin’s beside himself…until he meets the man who found her.

Cat-lover and mechanic Forrest James is a Roman sculpture brought to life, old enough to run a successful garage but not old enough to forget the secrets of a painful childhood.

Edwin’s lonely, and a straight man poses no threat to his vow. Soon he’s going to the garage every night after class. Forrest’s quiet friendship is healing Edwin’s broken heart until a night of mind-blowing sex changes everything. Edwin can’t deny his growing feelings, but a relationship between them seems impossible.

After Edwin uncovers the mysteries behind Forrest’s tough exterior, he’s forced to choose between a lost love and an unexpectedly tender new love who needs Edwin more than he ever could have guessed. Only by dealing with their tragic pasts can either forge a future. Will they find a way to do together what neither could do alone?

Art by P.L. Nunn

Read an excerpt

Purchase from Amazon

Filed under: books, Loose Id, writing Tagged: book, cats, loose id, m/m, you're welcome love your cat

Make Mine Manlove Podcast: Episode 1

Come check it out! We’re planning on doing this monthly-ish with different guests to talk about things in the industry or just what’s sticking in our craw.

This one ran long, but our aim is closer to 45min-1 hour to really get our feelings out and have some fun.

Hope you enjoy it!

Make Mine Manlove Podcast: Episode 1

Download Podcast as MP3 (right click and save as)

Filed under: feels, make mine manlove, podcast Tagged: bisexual, feels, glbt, jessica freely, m/m, make mine manlove, podcast, thursday euclid

Gemini is on sale!

Cass Manning is a serial monogamist, grad student, and identical twin to Paul, a drug-addicted prostitute. Fleeing his unfaithful boyfriend, Cass returns to Houston after years away only to be drawn into danger before he’s out of the airport.

When Paul dies under suspicious circumstances, Cass must rely on one of Paul’s clients, Kilo, a mercenary willing to protect Cass in exchange for sex. Together they have a chance to bring justice to the corrupt heart of Texas’s political power structure, but Kilo’s mysterious past may tear him from Cass when he needs him most. Even if they outlive their untouchable adversaries, how does a polite academic find lasting love with a soldier of fortune?

Available at Loose Id

Filed under: books, Loose Id, promo, writing Tagged: erotic, loose id, m/m, novel, promo, thursday euclid, writing [image error] [image error]

Shows I’ve been watching

Just finished watching “Damages” and… I have to say it was really interesting to me from a social perspective as well as a story telling perspective. It kind of spoiles the end for you, so it would be like, episode one: SNAPE KILLS DUMBLEDORE and then you have to figure out what led up to that and if what we saw was actually literally Snape killing Dumbledore or if it was someone else or if that’s really Dumbledore who is dead. Plus Glenn Close & Rose Byrne. And I loved that it was a real head-to-head power struggle between two women with so much subtlety and nuance. It may seem a little slow to people and the time jumps may be confusing, but it’s really got me thinking about how to craft stories and how to write women without necessarily making them manish but also not raining down patriarchy on them.

I also watched all of “Transparent” which was so interesting and heartbreaking. A family dealing with their dad coming out as a woman. Is it 100% everyone’s experience? Of course not. it is of that sort of typical TV family mode of everyone being totally self-involved and pointing out that elephant in the room (which in my family, no one does that. We just quietly avoid each other) but I am fascinated with how it presents these issues. Definitely worth watching. I did it all in a day because that’s how I roll.

Suits I liked less. The characters are interesting, but it’s pretty typical laywer fare. Man v man. Some powerful women (Gina Torres brought me to it) but it mostly boils down to man versus man in a pretty cliche way. Watching this before Damages saved it from me disliking it. There are definitely more likeable characters in this one, and more laughter, but it left me feeling apathetic. I kinda want to know what happens next, but meh. Not if RuPaul’s Drag Race is on.

Late tomorrow night the new book Gemini shoud be out!

Filed under: books, feels Tagged: books, feels, review, thoughts

Cover Reveal & Coming Soon: Gemini, out 9/30

Cass Manning is a serial monogamist, grad student, and identical twin to Paul, a drug-addicted prostitute. Fleeing his unfaithful boyfriend, Cass returns to Houston after years away only to be drawn into danger before he’s out of the airport.

When Paul dies under suspicious circumstances, Cass must rely on one of Paul’s clients, Kilo, a mercenary willing to protect Cass in exchange for sex. Together they have a chance to bring justice to the corrupt heart of Texas’s political power structure, but Kilo’s mysterious past may tear him from Cass when he needs him most. Even if they outlive their untouchable adversaries, how does a polite academic find lasting love with a soldier of fortune?

Cover by Syneca Featherstone

So excited to release this story. It’s different than what we’ve done in the past, we took on a romantic thriller story with a little ripped from the headlines thrown in for good measure. Hey, all my fanatical political reading should be good for something, right?

This will be out next week, but you can bookmark the page. I should have an excerpt for you soon!

Filed under: books, Loose Id Tagged: cover reveal, gemini, loose id, m/m, promo, thursday euclid

Reviews for Prince Charming Wears Garters are in!

“Don’t pay any attention to what they write about you. Just measure it in inches.”

Andy Warhol

Good advice, but I did pay attention and I was quite pleased by what I read. And by quite pleased, I mean I danced a little jig, had a glass of wine, and basked like an iguana on a warm rock. Is that unprofessional?

On Dear Author, a tough but fair review site, Jayne S said

By the end, even I was starting to think I might share Sara’s men-in-garters fetish.

I like the funny, I like the sexy and I’m still turning over my thoughts about liking the lace (though I wish there’d been more of it) , plus I always like cats but I think readers need to be ready for some office harrassment and the “quick on the draw” relationship. B-

Read the whole review

 

I was not expecting Top 2 Bottom Reviews to read or even review my book. While there’s crossdressing and gay BFFs, it’s not m/m at all. But I’m so grateful and tickled that they did!

From Top 2 Bottom Reviews, a site that specializes in m/m reviews, Gabbi said

Prince Charming Wears Garters is a sexy, intriguing and well written story that I know I will enjoy rereading time and time again. Between the likeable and well-written characters, to the fast-paced plot, it left this reader a big satisfying smile at the end.

Read the whole review

 

Buy a copy at most fine retailers.

Loose Id
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
All Romance eBooks

Filed under: books, Loose Id, published Tagged: big brag, brag, erotic, how you like me now, loose id, m/f, needs more hugh dancy, not so humble brag, prince charming wears garters, promo, reviews

10 books that influenced me

There’s a meme that comes around Facebook a couple of times a year and I always think, “Haven’t I answered this already?” And I have, but damned if I can figure out where I put those elusive answers. It would be interesting to see what has or hasn’t changed between answers, but that would require a lot of sifting, so I decided to post it here to share it with a little more permanence.

These are in no particular order.

1. The Complete Harry Potter Collection — J.K. Rowling

Fanfiction was what got me writing fiction. I was a journalism major before.

 

2. The Color Purple — Alice Walker

I still look at the color purple in a field and wonder if God gets angry we don’t notice.

 

3. Middlesex — Jeffry Eugenides

It’s really so many stories in one. There’s war, intrigue, sexy sex, gender identity, identity in general. History. Ugh. If I could write something like this I’d die happy.

 

4. Another Roadside Attraction — Tom Robbins

Like, seriously? When people get all pearl clutchy about “the children” learning about bondage in school, I think, “I bet you really think you stashed your copy of Fifty Shades of Grey well, don’t you?” Well, you didn’t. And my aunt didn’t hide this book very well and I snatched it off the shelf and read it when I was 7. It’s blasphemous, hilarious, sexy, it’s… not a children’s book. But oh, I loved it.

 

5. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy — Douglas Adams

Nary a day goes by where I don’t quote or think about some hidden nugget of truth in this series.

 

6. American Gods — Neil Gaiman

I love all of his books, but I have a definite, definite favorite and it’s this one. I love the idea of displaced gods so much that I swiped it.

 

7. Invisible Monsters — Chuck Palahniuk

To know me is to know that this book has everything that I love. Violence, sexuality, insanity, humor. Brandy Alexander. That’s all I’m going to say.

 

8. House of Leaves — Mark Z. Danielewski

I was a hardcore Stephen King/Clive Barker reading as a kid so it’s hard to disturb me, but this, between the two stories, the crazy formatting… it was so fascinating. I love haunted house stories but I don’t really believe in ghosts so it’s hard to get under my skin much and this did.

 

9. Interview with the Vampire — Anne Rice

She made me love vampires and hate them in a span of a few books. The first one is the only one I really loved. I stopped reading after I threw Memnoch the Devil across the room. I love my haunted Louis. Fuck Lestat.

 

10. The Tourist — Olen Steinhauer

I loved this book so much, I put it in No Tea, No Shade because Lindsey loves a spy novel. I just love the marrying of the old cold war techniques to the modern age and Milo is thoroughly flawed and interesting in ways that often other spy heroes leave me cold.

 

Honorary mention: The Magicians — Lev Grossman

Comparing it to Harry Potter is grossly unfair to both. They’re both about magic and getting into a magic school and adventures that happen, but The Magicians is targeted at adults and is written to be more literary. Some will find the pretentious tone (and good god is it pretentious) off putting, but I really loved the magic and imagination. If I were to give it a better comparison, I’d say it was more Chronicles of Narnia, which is more clearly what it’s riffing off of with a magical land connected to children (after the magic school happens.) I have to read the third one, it just came out and I thought I had it set to come to my kindle when it was out but alas!

Filed under: about clancy, books, writing Tagged: favorite books, personal, recs

Organizing the closet with Alaska Thunderfuck and the Walrus

The good news is, my migraines are coming a lot less frequently now and I seem to be able to head them off at the pass for the most part, so long as I get enough sleep, don’t spaz out, there is no rain, no sharkweek, I’m not dehydrated, and don’t forget to eat.

That may sound simple, but there’s a very, very narrow margin for error. Every time I even browse LinkedIn to ponder a regular job, the throbbing starts. It’s still a real hair trigger.

So, I kinda knew setting my appointment at 10:30 AM this morning could potentially be tricky. I’ve been trying to wean myself off of Ambien for months now. It’s hard when you have a lifetime of insomnia and irregular sleeping patterns. I try to avoid taking it until I have to and I’ve whittled down pills into quarters so that hopefully I can keep on a semi-regular schedule.

Anyway, I went to bed at 1, set my alarm for 9 and figured that should be all right. Only, at 5, I woke up and there was just no making myself go back to sleep. And then it started to rain. My period shits indicated that lady time was upon me, and that yes, I was going to drive myself and there was construction at the hospital.

All I could really do was make sure I was hydrated and fed and hope for the best.

That worked out okay until after the appointment. The auras were coming and since we discussed my growing allergy to Imitrex and that I shouldn’t take it, the rescue was right out. I was going to have to ride out the storm.

I drove home with my vision rapidly narrowing (this is why I avoid driving when I can) but it wasn’t far, so I made it. I took a handful of Ibuprofen and half of an Ambien and figured, “Hopefully I can sleep this off. It’s going to dick over my sleeping patterns, but the pain, she is coming.”

I headed to bed thinking about my lunch with friends tomorrow and this is where things get tricky.

Sometimes on Ambien, I don’t remember going to bed specifically. Who does, really, but I remember thinking about my clothes and how I have nice things but the maid sort of stashes them away and that I should be better organized.

Alaska Thunderfuck then showed up and offered to help me organize my closet. “Gurl,” she said, her voice low and accusing, then high and cutesy, “How do you find anything?”

“I don’t even want most of this. I have a big box downstairs where I was going to throw the shit I don’t want into.”

She clapped, her smile winning, her eyes black, nails clicking. “Go get it let’s do this.”

“Really?”

“Yaaaaas! Let’s do this nooooow.” She batted her lashes, her voice low, lips curling and puckering.

So I get the box and we’re going through my things. “This? This you’ll never wear.” Into the box. “What is this? Polyester? Gurl.” Into the box.

“Oh, now this is cute!” She points, nails long, fingers spread. “Wear this tomorrow.”

I set it aside.

Alaska helps me arrange by season and then says, “Gurl! Where are all your hangers?”

I retrieve some from another closet.

“You have a lot of scarves! I love it!” She twirls them before I hook them over the rod in the closet.

“Now these,” she pats her narrow hand on a stack of novelty t-shirts, “We can just fold and put in the dresser.”

I’m reorganizing the order of my dresses. She leans in over me, admiring my work. “We need to do mine next. It’s a mess.”

I stare at my purple dress and think about how far away Hollywood is and I wonder how I’m going to get there and then it occurs to me that I don’t know Alaska Thunderfuck and I wonder why she’s in my home.

When I turn around, she isn’t there, because of course she isn’t, but my cast-offs box is overflowing and my closet looks great.

That’s when I decide it’s time for a little nap.

Filed under: about clancy, Uncategorized Tagged: alaska thunderfuck, ambien