R.B. Winters's Blog: Rent (minus) Control, page 6
June 18, 2016
RmC: Wedding Daze
Few weddings are enjoyable, a majority are designed to make singles feel lonely, couples to feel jealous and friends to feel overextended. The living proof that a wedding can be something other than a catalyst for suicidal tendencies, is the wedding of my Straights.
Yes, Eric and Rebecca made the decision after two years of cohabitation to tie the knot, lock it down, make it legal, and most important, ensure they will have an even more difficult time separating and destroying out threesome. So to speak.
The outdoor ceremony lasted only twenty minutes and was filled with actual laughter, rare when it comes to many weddings. The ceremony had the offbeat charm of these two, which can only be created when truly spontaneous and sincere. In fact, on one occasion a tear nearly came to the eye of this jaded New Yorker. Of course, I choked it back, I’m still me for Christ’s sake.
All of this was the lovely conclusion to a weekend filled with sips, spills and tumbles. Which I mean quite literally. You see, upon arrival in Saint Lucia, my date, B1, and I checked into the resort and made our way directly to the nearest bar without passing go or needing to collect $200. Everything for the weekend was included in the price of our room…everything!
Considering we arrived on a Thursday, a normal person may have paced the drinking to ensure order was kept. No. No, this was not the case at all. Case and point: To be a good friend, I offered to refill the cups of two others when I was making a bar run for myself. What follows is why you should only be selfish when it comes to alcohol, never lending anyone a hand.
Collecting the drinks, three in hand for those counting, I made my way back to the hot tub. Two steps in and my feet slipped from beneath me, hands full, my ass fell directly on the concrete step. Jolts of pain shooting up my spine, head coming back above water, the drinks were safely above my head; priorities. Now the problem was the intense pain radiating from my ass. To numb the pain, or at least the brain sending signals of pain, more alcohol was consumed.
Though my ass hurt, and to be clear, I was walking around like an old man with a cane shoved up my ass, we still needed to have fun. Paddle boarding, kayaking, water slides, lazy river, bar, bar, bar, pool bar, and then the boat. After all this fun, sun, drinking and pain, we had to get on a boat. Now, Rebecca may have told me I was embarrassing her amidst all this, a fair comment as I was definitely going balls to the wall, we had to ride this boat. I lasted a few minutes before the sea sickness set in and B1 was literally holding my hair back over a teeny, tiny little hand-pump toilet. The benefit of all this vomiting, two hours later when B1 was drunk to the point of sleeping on the beach, I was now able to be her responsible adult.
Before my ass breaking, Rebecca commented that she had never seen B1 and I drunk at the same time. Now we know why, one of us always needs to be in charge of babysitting the other. We made it through the second and third days without incident, only when we were both partaking was there an issue.
The moral of this intoxicating story: If it’s an all-inclusive resort, drink and eat everything. You may break your ass and it will hurt for weeks. In the end [there’s the pun], it’s worth the effort, even if only to wish two friends the best of luck as they make a commitment you’ll never be able to attempt.
May 21, 2016
Grow Up or Move On
In the last few weeks I’ve been reprimanded by more than one friend for my typical behavior. Which generally comes in the form of a strong desire to go out and have too fun, or running my mouth, either/both seem to be pissing everyone off. Odd, those are the same things which previously drew people to me.
It came to a head last night as I went on an angry rant to a friend who is always available for emotional dumping and cutting. B1 is one of those people you can rely on to listen but give you real advice, not just the words you want tossed back. She is also a great resource to direct texts to when you’re intoxicated, it helps avoid sending them to certain people and making your crazy even more public.
B1 made a valid point about my time in Puerto Rico; I put life on pause and everyone else was not provided the same luxury. Though only six months went by, everything in our little metropolis changed and went on without me.
The point is valid and true. This doesn’t make it pleasant. It is however making the decision to leave for a full year a little easier. If everything is different here at this point in time, and with the way things are going, I’ll be forced to venture out and find people with similar interests. Meaning, I need to find additional people who are single and have the time to go out for silly antics. If I must do it anyway, what’s the difference in doing so now, or waiting another year to deal with the situation?
Change, that demon whore, rearing it’s ugly head once again. Now, I’m curious to see in twelve months when I write what will be the reply to this post, how many people will have vanished from my life entirely, and how many will remain as a shadow of our former lives. Time will tell…and so will B1.
May 7, 2016
Hittin’ the Bottle
Dating has changed over the past decade in a multitude of ways. Part of that is simply a shift in maturity, moving on from wanting a quick lay to something substantial. At the same time, the world has changed as well. Gay marriage is legal, not only in the United Stated, but in many places around the world.
Last night, I went on my first date in six months. A nice guy, around my age and seemingly in the same professional stage of his life. The conversation was engaging and the wine was fantastic. Being a first date, there are certain conversation milestones needed to get the ball rolling. We hit them all; What do you do for fun, what neighborhoods have you lived in, when did you move to the city, family, friends, etc…
A few hours into the conversation, things became slightly more serious and the topic shifted to the more adult. Do you want to get married? Not a questions I enjoy answering, as it generally causes an argument with people. I wasn’t inclined to lie and say I was wanting of a marriage. That’s just setting a false expectation, in the end it could come back to bite me in the ass. I explained, if the circumstances were right, maybe I would, but marriage was not on my list of must-do life goals. Part of this stems from my belief that marriage is archaic and unnecessary.
Then a question was asked that has never in my life come up on a date. Do you want children? This is one area in which I have no desire to hold back, my stance is set in stone. No. Absolutely no. This is when I could tell my date was the type of person who will probably require children one day. He went on to ask if I thought my mind would change. It won’t.
People often think this is a choice based on immaturity or lack of growth. People who want kids are great, and good thing they do, they keep our species alive. I’m not one of those people. There are a million things I have left to achieve in life. None of which will allow for a life-sucking fetus to be attached at the hip and consuming time. I shared very similar thoughts with my date, as I truly do not enjoy children. From the sticky fingers to their germ infested bodies, I run when they’re near, terrified of what harm they will do to my immune system and clean jeans.
These are the questions we now have to answer. It’s no longer just about finding a partner. As the gay world continues to progress, it’s becoming more and more like the straight world. There’s nothing wrong with this change in reality, but it’s something I never would have thought feasible ten years ago. To some degree, I miss the simplicity of dating at twenty. A time in life when the choices you made didn’t really have that much impact on tomorrow.
April 3, 2016
Mr. Ghosty Ghost
Learning the lessons has to be the most unpleasant part of life. Looking back they often have value, but when the lesson is learned it’s usually through a hard and/or unpleasant way.
The lesson for today is this: Never take a break from someone during the honeymoon phase.
This is exactly what I went ahead and did with Apple Picker, whom I met a few weeks before leaving New York for six months in Puerto Rico. Leaving during this period allowed months of toying with ideas, or possibly delusions on my part. When you first meet someone and don’t know them and they don’t really know you, it’s exciting and anything is possible. When you take a break with no official, ‘this is over’ or ‘let’s see other people,’ it can’t end well.
I was home for a few days and had notified Apple Picker, making plans to see him on the Friday before flying out once more. Then it came to the time when he was supposed to make an appearance and there was nothing more than radio silence. Of course, I reached out with a friendly text of curiosity only to be provided with more silence.
Aside from this moment I can’t recall the last time another human being ghosted me. I went about my evening and caught up with friends over drinks, keeping one eye on the phone at all times. It wasn’t until the following morning, when I gave up all hope of ever hearing from Apple Picker. Deciding not to send a million texts the evening before, I thought it acceptable to send one asking if I’d scared him off. Nothing but silence.
There are not many things out there that can kick you in the metaphorical balls the way rejection can, but it’s almost magical the way the mind can spin all sorts of reasons for the “why.” There is a sort of happy ending to this story. It took another day and 1600 miles of space, but Apple Picker did reach out via text, seeing as it is the only form of human communication which allows us to remain distant at all times while pretending to connect.
Turns out he started dating someone a few weeks back and didn’t want to tell me. He apologized in his message for not bringing it up sooner and I simply thanked him for letting me know. I was aware this was a possibility in my absence, though it doesn’t make me like the situation. It’s frustrating to receive the blow off, though probably better that it came today versus never, else I’d spend who knows how long obsessing over the ‘what went wrong.’
So, I learn the lesson, if you’re going to date, it’s best to get through the honeymoon phase before making any major life choices…or at least make it clear that there is no intended future upon return.
March 26, 2016
Puerto Rican Crisis
Talking to a friend last night I suggested we quit our lives, runaway to Europe and become new people. Not because things are bad, but in an effort to escape the routine of life. You know what I’m talking about; the moment you become content or comfortable it’s because life has become routine.
Some people talk about loving their lives and we envy them while secretly despising their faces. Some talk about how much they hate life and they are the ones we pity while trying to avoid being invited out for drinks. The majority suffer not necessarily in silence, or at all, going about the routine of life to work, eat and sleep. They do what is required to live in the world, not a bad thing…not entirely the best thing.
Taking my New York hiatus five months ago, it is quickly coming to an end, having proven to been the best decision. Digging myself out of a financial hole created over the last two years by an inability to say no and always want just a little bit more. I’ll return to the city a far more financially stable adult than the one who left. This was a major reason for my life change, the other being a need to shake things up and try something new. Getting up, working, going to the gym and then bed are not enough. If it is enough for you, please share you secret or the name of the doctor prescribing your hallucinogenic drugs.
What has changed while living in Puerto Rico: Exposure to people who do not behave in any way like myself. Beginning to learn a new language and having opportunities to apply these new and difficult skills. Meeting people even though I thought I’d be down here by myself.
I really do hate people, in the sense that I don’t want to be in a big crowd or entertain a group. I do however enjoy having someone to talk to as we share a bottle of wine, someone to beach and brunch, someone to text when I’m having a shitty day and want to hear exactly what I need to hear. Friends. I did not expect to make any here.
Now, with the return to New York only a month away I’m unhappy with the reality that I once again have to leave friends. You see, it’s my restless nature which got me to Puerto Rico and it’s that same voice in my head making me think running away to Europe would be a practical solution. It’s also the same voice who has me applying to law school while worrying being accepted would mean several years of life on lock down. Though that is a different issue altogether.
So, I return to New York on May 1st, a new book is almost out and it looks like everything is going back to the way it was. I don’t want things to go back to normal. New York, I do want to be home, but the idea of returning to the old routine is almost enough to make me stay…or at least take pause.
Where do we go when we don’t know where we want to end up?
February 13, 2016
Time and Repeat
Last Saturday, walking to meet one friend, I chatted on the phone with another. Rachel and I have known each other for more than a decade. Not a likely pair, we look different on the outside, but have the same sense of demented humor which binds us together. Rachel told me about the things going on with her family, the destruction of her parent’s marriage, yet another casualty of Facebook. We finished the call and I headed off for a drink at Tia Maria’s.
An hour later a text came through, pulling the still illuminated phone from a rear pocket the screen read, “My dad shot himself.” Reality has a way of being all too real when you least expect and finds ways to repeat the history we hide from. This moment being only three weeks shy of the two-year anniversary of the phone call informing me of the same situation with my mother. It was a sobering moment and the first thing I did was head home to pack a bag and find a flight.
Utah is becoming synonymous with death in my world. I have now only been there two times in the last few years, both associated with an unexpected and unpleasant death. Rachel was far more composed upon my arrival than I would have expected. We’re both the types of people who spend too much time in their heads, reliving every detail to the point of exhaustion. I had concern as Rachel is more of an outward expresser of emotions, it wasn’t clear exactly how she may react. Not thinking she would off herself, but knowing there was the chance. I understand how she feels in this situation. There’s nothing and no one who can help you.
So, myself and other friends did the only thing we could do, stick around. Asking how someone is doing is nothing more than a polite, forced expression. The only thing anyone can ever really say is that they’re fine, when in actuality they are going out of their mind, trying desperately to not fall apart. Being impossible to stay forever, I had to leave after a few days, work and life refuse to wait. Time will always push us forward, no matter how we try to hold onto a moment.
With this fresh wound cutting at a friend I’m made to think how much time has moved me beyond that moment two years ago when I was convinced there was no tomorrow. I can’t say I’m over anything, it seems more likely that the mind tucks away the bitter thoughts, just enough to allow a person to move beyond a painful moment. I hope for Rachel time will press forward quickly. Getting away from the moment seems the best therapy for accepting it and continuing to survive.
January 30, 2016
Single: There is No Known Cure
Single: There is No Known Cure
It’s hard to say exactly what a healthy relationship looks like, or what the model should be for one. Maybe our parents should be the model, but when you’re the “gay kid” in the family, even if your parents had the greatest of love affairs, it’s not exactly something you can compare yourself to. Perhaps at the root it’s the same, but as far as obstacles it seems to be different.
Recently, London, nickname stemming from his current place of residence, and his fiancé came to Puerto Rico in an effort to explore wedding locations. The cynic in me makes jokes and rolls eyes when it comes to weddings. Though I have to admit I would say these two are the example of a healthy relationship, gay or straight. It was interesting to engage with two adult gay men, who not only behaved like adults, but interacted with one another in a comical and positive way. We see this between gay men who are friends but I’ve never really witnessed it in a couple.
Most gay couples I’ve met or know are kind of bitchy with one another. I’m not sure of a more polite way to put it…there always seems to be drama or a problem…always. So, witnessing what I would consider positive and healthy behavior was a refreshing change.
This does not mean I’ve converted to a love-a-holic and have begun a mission to find the dick I want to lock down. Coincidentally, the same night I was making this observation of London and his fiancé, we were in a dimly lit dive bar having a drink over by an open window. A guy appeared and I was cornered into a conversation. His boyfriend eventually appeared and they began asking some generic questions almost any stranger will ask you. The conversation went something like this:
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Are you recently single.”
“No, I’ve been single since I was twenty.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty.”
“You don’t want a boyfriend?”
“No.”
Longest pause in history.
“Why not?”
“I’m good.”
It was amazing how quickly these two wanted to get away from me. Apparently, my acceptance of being single was like an airborne illness that may infect and destroy them.
Seriously though, I was a few drinks in, which probably made my answers more direct and less fluffy than they may have been in a different setting. Why I bring up all of this is because I am happy for my friends who are pairing off, finding that other person and moving forward in life. If I had told these two strangers I was engaged I’m sure they would have been all about the questions and positive comments.
Why is it that a happy, single person is looked upon as a problem or something to escape? If you are investing your time in a career, education, friendships, is that not as good as investing in a relationship? There really is no correct answer, the relationship driven person will be inclined to say, “you’ve not found the right person,” or “you’re kidding yourself.” The reverse is true of singles who are likely to agree up to the point of finding themselves in a relationship and then becoming a convert.
What I’ve learned, and it’s a fairly recent discovery, is that I do not have the desire for a boyfriend or partner at this stage in life. That is not to say never, but there’s no point in sight which I can envision a relationship. My friends fulfill the human engagement aspect of life, and the ability to hop from one city to the next, spend money as I see fit and answer to no one individual makes life exciting. Why give that up?
January 24, 2016
The Itch
Ever think about your biggest fear in life? From observing people, the biggest fear floating around seems to be the one of being alone. People pair off, get married, get divorced, get married, get divorced, and so on. Being alone is not something I find scary, in actuality it can be a great comfort at times. My biggest fear is stagnation.
Having recently completed a Masters degree I am faced with the next step in life: Continue in the pursuit of education or allow life to move forward exactly as is. The idea that the way things are today may be how they are forever is something I am unwilling and petrified to accept or truly acknowledge. In part, this is my commitment phobia/restless nature which drives me to distraction. How else would I have ended up spending the winter more than a thousand miles away from home? It’s not just about snow, it’s about not settling into a routine which will consume your life and leave you old and broken fifty years from now.
When you are a single adult who has no children and work is a focal point in life, you have the ability to make a multitude of decisions. At times it’s easier to make no decisions or changes and remain in your comfortable niche life, which I’ve done on many occasions. Work eats up enormous amounts of my time and we’re coming up on the eight year anniversary of what was to be a temporary position. I’m too afraid to walk away, but at the same time not able to accept the idea that this may be forever.
How do you rip off the emotional band-aid and take a risk? For me it was by registering for the LSAT. As a kid it was a goal to become a lawyer. Will I pass? Will I be accepted? Is it the next step in a totally new direction that will lead me far from where I began? Not a clue. There’s no way to answer any of the “if” questions other than living, making more mistakes and looking back a few years from now and deciding which were the right and wrong ones.
I literally am raising my glass to the next chapter. Let’s hope I don’t fall flat on my face.
January 17, 2016
That’s My Chair
Life is a game of chairs. Think about it, you’re always looking for a place to sit, with someone to site, and it starts young. In primary school the seats are assigned, by high school cafeteria seating is an art and an act of war, while as an adult you usually have control over the seating and whom you decide to sit beside.
So, when my Straights came to Puerto Rico for a visit over New Year’s it was no surprise that we set up shop at a table, centrally located to watch as the masses poured into the venue which cost $200 per head to attend. Two hours into the open bar and people watching we ran into a hitch. I should mention, the people watching was fantastic. Honestly, the dresses were cut so high and dipped so low, I’m sure each came with a free Brazilian wax and breast tape to keep everything in place.
My Sister Wife, Rebecca, was holding a chair as her fiance went to the bathroom. A security guard came over and began saying something in Spanish. I could understand just enough to know he was saying we had to move the chair from the outside of the table back to the center table where it belonged. We complied and moved the chair only to have a man ask Rebecca to move her purse so he could sit. She declined and he began shouting about two chairs per table. This quickly devolved into a small battle of wills as the security guard, who it turns out this old man had summoned to tattle on us, returned to enforce the two chair per table rule. I’ve never seen Rebecca truly angry, but over the next twenty minutes I thought she was going to kill this guy. We never left the table, making sure to remind the people each time they tried to snag an extra chair of the two per table rule since we had been forced to give up the seat.
Fast forward a few days and I was at a local bar with my friend from London and his fiance, when one of them grabbed a stool which had been sitting unattended for our entire bar visit. Out of no where a girl appeared, shouting about her chair, her chair. I’m beginning to think Puerto Ricans have a special obsession with chairs that goes beyond the mainstream obsession centered around acceptance and not being a loner. She ended up walking away, never sitting or going further into detail about what the hell she wanted with the chair. Clearly, she had no intention of sitting.
Now, with all of said friends gone from this tiny island and back in New York and London respectively, I’m sitting alone once more. Self made isolation which will last another three months until I return to New York. Until then, I’ll be fighting the good fight for a seat at someone’s table to avoid going mad with boredom. Or, I’ll just start randomly shouting “my chair” as I walk by restaurants with outdoor seating.
December 25, 2015
Adult Holidays
When you are child-free there’s no reason to follow Christmas traditions. I mean, you can, if you like, it’s up to you. To me, living in a baby-free world, there is no need for a Christmas tree or any of the decorations that require you to put them up and take them down. Instead, I opt for a delightful wine buzz and some over the clothes fondling. That’s how the eve ended.
One of the trainers from the gym asked if I wanted to grab a drink several weeks back. At the time I was living in Isla Verde and the walk to the gym was a solid hour. Meaning, I was not walking that long or far for any guy, or drink. Today, I live a short ten minutes from the gym which means drinks are now a possibility. We met at a bar of my choosing, mainly because I couldn’t get him, the person who has lived here four years longer than I, to make a suggestion. We may be on an island where people are go with the flow, but if you aren’t going to offer up any options I will make all of the decisions for you. No one has time for endless text messages of, “Whatever you want…”
Anyway, drinks were particularly good. You know when you go on a date but you aren’t at all interested in the person and there are no nerves? This was one of those situations. Not to say this guy isn’t attractive, he is, but there was no initial spark when we met that made me think, hmmm, let’s get naked together. The conversation is what drew me in as we sat at the bar sipping on margaritas. It’s a holiday and the only tradition I do enjoy is the one where we all pretend it’s okay to eat and drink everything in sight. #FatKid
One drink turned into five, which turned into hanging out at my apartment, which turned into the above mentioned fondling. We made a stop on the way to the apartment as I knew I needed a drunk snack, and this guy buys pork rinds. Gross. Also, why not just eat a giant onion or something? You can’t kiss someone after they eat those nasty things. That’s why there was nothing more than light fondling, it was just too much.
Though I have to give him some credit, he went out to the club with friends after leaving my place. It was 3:00 am… You couldn’t get me out to anything at that time of night and I’m eight years younger than this guy.
As far as first Christmas eve shenanigans go, and keeping in the spirit of not being in the spirit, this holiday is a success. Now, to have a follow up date without the disgusting snacks.
Rent (minus) Control
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