Scratch that...

Text message received this morning:

"Sorry I missed u. **** and I were on the phone and officially dating."

So what does this mean. That post I wrote on Jan 27 about 2006 being one heck of a year...yeah...I was wrong. And that post from Jan 23 where I pretty much put myself out there on a limb...a waste of time.

If you read this, and I'm pretty sure you will, I really do wish you the best. I just wish I had know **** existed so it wouldn't have hurt as much as it did when I got your text message. After getting dumped via email last year to have something like this told to me via text message and not, at the very least over the phone, was unnecessary and, in my mind at least, a little cruel.

Of course, you do have to realize that I'm now going to question that trip down to Atlantic City with your sister this weekend. I cleared my schedule for the entire freakin' weekend so I could spend time with you and get to know you better. When you IM'd me (again you can't pick up a phone?) to say that you were heading to Atlantic City, I'll admit it, I was VERY disappointed because I did want to see you. I wanted to spend time with you. The conversations we had in the past week led me to believe that, at the very least, there was interest on your part and that this could be the start of something big between us.

I really do hope this works out for you. I hope you and **** are very happy because to be totally honest I'm not happy and I don't plan on pretending to be happy for you. This does hurt more than I thought it would because I was at least given the glimmer of hope. I spent too much time after that date wondering what was wrong with me as a person after our first date when you pretty much flaked on me and our conversations lacked the spark that they did and I thought you just weren't interested after meeting me.

What hurts even more is how casually you did this. Text messages. Instant messages. I probably would have respected your decision a bit more if you had actually talked to me on the phone rather than get a cold, emotionless text message. A text message, mind you, where you don't even bother to apologize or acknowledge the fact that I put myself and my feelings on the line and in a far more public manner than I probably should have because now I'm writing you this because I know that you will come back here again to see what I have to say about this new revelation.

So...my phone number that you deleted from your phone that you just put back in that Sunday. Go ahead and delete it again. My instant messenger ID should probably go as well. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

I'm not letting you make a third attempt.

The underwear goes next...

I think I have an addiction. I'm addicted to kilts. I just bought 2 more over the weekend (not overly expensive mind you and I probably could have paid for a couple more and been the cost of a "real" kilt -- with "real" defined as the big $300-400 professional jobs).

This will bring my total up to 9 kilts with a custom made 10th on the way to me in May. Soon I will just get rid of all my pants...of course I need a job where I can wear kilts to work to make that happen.

Then, on top of that, I joined a kilt-centric message board and a yahoogroup for kilt wearing men in NYC.

Yeah...this is sounding more and more like addiction. Just send me more money so I can get more kilts...that's all I ask...

The last post

So...I kept the last post on the blog for a while and have held off on posting anything else because I was hoping that the person to whom the message was intended would actually...well....get the message.

And he did.

And he didn't run off screaming in terror.

And we had a really great talk last night.

And we may be getting together this weekend.

And this could be a sign that 2006 will be one heck of a year...

To a certain someone...

If a certain someone happens to be taking time away from teaching and happens to read this, you should probably know a couple of things.

1) After graduating from New York University, Kimberly Clarice Aiken pursued a career in public accounting with Ernst & Young, LLP and one of the Big Five accounting firms. Today, she is an image consultant and motivational speaker. A professional speaker for nearly ten years, she entertains and inspires audiences with her programs, using her varied experiences and sharing stories of overcoming obstacles, such as brain surgery. She is also a regular columnist for Pageantry Magazine, as well as a wife and mother of a son, Russell.

2) It was great hearing from you this weekend and, yes, I agree that the Miss America Pageant probably isn't worth watching anymore.

3) I may be going a bit "out of the box" with this statement, but it was great talking with you yesterday. For what it's worth, I do like you and am very glad that we talked this weekend. Anyone who can make me laugh and smile over 2+ hours of phone conversation is definitely a good thing. Ridiculous or not, you're a great guy that I would like to get to know better and hope you feel the same.

Italy Art

Yesterday, I hung up the small pieces of artwork that I got in Italy on my vacation. Made me feel a little productive...the first one I got in Radda-in-Chianti at this little art dealer's shop. For some reason I liked it and the colors.


The other two I got in San Gimignano from this cute painter guy on the street. The first is of a very famous hillside in Italy with cypress trees lining this serpentine path. The second is of the corner he was stationed at an painting from in San Gimignano.

Fourteen HOURS?

Fourteen hours a go I let my bag of laundry fall on the ground and I collapsed on my bed trying to shake this week off of me.

Then I found myself waking up and still in the same position I fell on my bed.

Fourteen hours of sleep? In one shot? That can't be healthy.

Grandma Gone Bonkers

"Why do you have that black stuff on your face and why did you spike your hair up?"

These immortal words were spoken by my grandmother (the one that drives me insane) to my parents when they went to visit her in the assisted living facility where she is recuperating from surgery.

My mother, however, looked like she always has and after exchanging glances with my father responded that she was doing a project with the grandchildren and that she had come right there after Melissa had picked them up.

At that point, my grandmother proceeded to tell my parents about the men who broke into the facility the week before but she escaped on her motorcycle and rode to church. She also said she saw Linda, the wife of my dad's cousin, in the parking lot and she was going to find Melissa so she could do something about the quality of the food she was being served.

I don't know whether to laugh or be sad.

Fun with the French

Sassy.

Whip.

Fishnets.

Busty.

The list has begun.

One of the women in my department has taken the whiteboard next to her desk and begun to list the English words that she doesn't know as she is French. It's fun because they will hear the word, look it up in their online dictionary and then tell us the phrase that corresponds to it.

However, it was a bit hard to explain "you're so dominatrix kitten with a whip in those boots" without crossing the line into sexual harrassment. Thankfully, we got through that one okay. That also included "fishnets" in the conversation and until I started to make hand movements showing how the the stockings went she was totally confused.

Not that it's helping my limited French out any because something tells me I'm not going to be needing the word "busty" anytime soon on a date.

Squeeze Play

Flop.

Scrunch.

Wiggle wiggle.

I'm on the G train going home from work and I'm now scrunched against the seat barrier that's keeping me from falling onto the floor. The very large Eastern European man whose ass is the size of Alaska has forced himself into a space the size of Delaware. And I'm the victim.

The book that I was reading has closed because my shoulders have been squeezed together and making it hard to keep reading my book. My legs are forced together in a very uncomfortable position to the point where my thighs start wondering if I'll even be able to stand if I tried.

I catch the eye of the guy sitting across from me who sees me in my predicament and catches my eyeroll of disdain. We share a smile and a silent giggle with each other as he's probably remembering when he was put into that same position. Finally, just to give my body a little relief and comfort I stand up just so I'm not pinned against a wall. The train, which has yet to begin its route, finally starts to move.

I feel blood circulation starting to return to my legs.

Will & Grace West Coast

Want to see what they changed on the live West Coast edition of Will & Grace last night...here ya go....and yes, there is ONE BIG BLOOPER that they just can't ignore....

Cineplex Previews

Sadly these movies have been running for a very long time...not award winning movies that's for sure....

Debbie Downer

You gotta love it when the entire cast can't keep from breaking up...I think Amy Poehler (or however you spell it) totally miffed her lines because she couldn't keep from cracking up...

Where was I last night?

Hmmm...what did you do last night? I was a little busy as you can see...



Hate me....you know you want to.... :)

Go for the burn

At the suggestion of a good friend, I accepted a one week membership to David Barton Gyms so I can try it out and see how I like it.

I went knowing a few things:

1) My primary location would be in the heart of Chelsea (and for those not in the know, that's the epicenter of the gay world in NYC). It's also not on the commute home or to work (but can be with a bit of difficulty).

2) The place is loaded with muscled out Chelsea-ites who don't consider you worth looking at if your waist size is above 28

3) It's a gym with the feel of a gay pick-up bar

4) I could get a better deal through my company at NYSC for $30 less a month and be able to go to any NYSC in the city

Knowing ALL of this, I was still willing to try DBG before I took the plunge. Yesterday was okay. I did my cardio and felt pretty good afterwards. I was too focused on my hour of cardio (and was pretty much facing a wall), showered and went home. Tonight, I got hurricane force attitude winds from the second I walked into the door. With looks ranging from "Why are you even bothering to come?" to "No, you will never look like me" to "Go home. You don't belong here" I felt about as comfortable as Pat Robertson being a judge for Miss Drag Queen USA.

I used to work out at a very small, even intimate gym. Never packed. Rarely crowded. And it worked for me. No I didn't wind up with abs of steel or a huge muscle body but I was okay with that. I looked good and I felt good. Today I felt like that would never happen at DBG. A little discouraging.

My friend kept trying to sell me on the hot eye candy and how I could meet someone there, etc. but he didn't get the fact is that gym time, for me, is "me" time. I don't have to answer a phone or email. I can shut out the world and do my own thing. I'm not there to cruise or meet men or have sex in the steam room (another thing that DBG is notorious for). I'm there to work out, relieve stress, and be healthy.

"It's all in your mind," my friend said after I regaled him of my tale.

No. It wasn't in my mind. I just don't feel comfortable there. It could be right next door to my apartment and free and I doubt I would have a different opinion. Having been through enough rejection and recipient of more than a few of those judgmental looks that make me hate most gay bars as well, I knew what was going on. David Barton Gym wasn't going to be the place where I would want to go after work to get fit.

Yeah, so maybe I have a thin skin and can't take the constant barrage of quizzical looks and glances designed to make me feel like less of a person because I don't fit their mold. However, it doesn't mean that I have to force myself to go to a gym that's going to make me feel like crap at the end of the day. $105 a month is a lot to pay each month just to be told you don't belong and probably never will.
Sent wirelessly via BlackBerry from T-Mobile.

Fantastic Four

Scored from her I'll be a good boy to start off the year and do the non-pornified version suggested by Deidre...

Four jobs you’ve had in your life
1) In college, one of my jobs was to distribute and show the proper way to use condoms.
2) Phone psychic (seriously!)
3) Librarian
4) Retiree benefits administrator (which is why I have a problem dealing with the elderly and their issues...in that job you heard ALL of their issues whether you wanted to or not)

Four movies you could watch over and over
1) Love Actually
2) All About Eve
3) Clue
4) Thelma and Louise

Four places you’ve lived
(I'll make this fun and keep it NYC-centric)

1) Astoria, Queens
2) Hell's Kitchen (or as they like to call it now, Clinton)
3) Washington Heights
4) Greenpoint, Brooklyn

Four TV shows you love to watch
1) Desperate Housewives
2) Grey's Anatomy
3) Waking the Dead (BBC America ROCKS!)
4) Old Match Game reruns on the Game Show Network

Four places you’ve been on vacation
1) Italy (Tuscany)
2) Canada (Halifax for Joni's wedding)
3) Vermont
4) My bed

Four websites you visit daily
1) MSNBC.com
2) BinghamCup.com
3) Outsports.com
4) Yahoo News

Four of your favorite foods
1) Carrot sticks and roasted garlic hummus
2) Pistachios (comfort food)
3) Cheesecake
4) Kumquats (you know why)

Four places you’d rather be
1) San Gimignano, Italy (preferably at Agriturismo Santa Croce)
2) Venice, Italy
3) Hiking through Switzerland
4) My bed (shared with someone else of course)