I really didn't have anything that I wanted to blog about, but lately This Man has had these tidbits of conversation playing in my head over and over that the only way to get them to stop is to write about them. And they're conversations that I've had with my buddies and even complete strangers.
Enjoy the Holiday

When my best bud, Jason and I ran into each other in front of the North Park Adult Video store, we finally started talking about the issues and drama that had us not speaking for over a month. Upon seeing, Jason we had this tidbit of conversation.

Jason: "Damn bitch! You looking GOOD!"
This Man: Thanks, I've started back running."
Jason: "Yeah, you're looking better than me! But don't loose too much otherwise you'll be looking like Oprah with a little body and a big head!"
This Man: "BITCH!"
A few minutes later, once Jason told me how bad I'd hurt him, he quipped with this tidbit.
Jason: "I thought I was your best friend. I thought I was Gayle King, Oprah...and your ass is treating me like I'm Steadman!"

One Sunday evening, This Man was at The Hole with my buddy, Jay. We were drinking, stoned and cruising the men. I'd noticed a guy, and anesthesiologist that I'd seen a few times there.
This Man: " I really think Dr. Art is a big ol 'HO!"
Jay: "Oh really. Compared to who--YOU?"

Last night on the phone with Jay, talking about his bud who'd came down to visit him from L.A.
Jay: "It's been great having company and having someone to fall alseep with. I guess I'll drive him to the train station and then return back to my lonely life."
This Man: "Lonely, my ass. Knowing you, you'll have some hot guys lined up to meet you at your place before you get back from downtown."
Jay: "So what are you trying to say?"
This Man: "I'm saying, when it comes to hookups, you like to stack 'em deep and have a few lined up; not just one."

Two nights ago, while fooling around with Raymond while The Empire Strikes back played on the television. Through clenched teeth and in a high pitched voice he said:
Raymond: "Jeezus, I wish you would hurry up and cum so I can watch the movie."

This afternoon when I was sitting at Bread et Cie, having lunch, This Man overhead this joke. The man at the next table was talking about his travels to New Zealand when he made this joke.
" Ah New Zealand...where the Men are Men, the sheep are nervous and all the children are BAAAAA-stards!"

After finishing up my run in Hillcrest, I saw this banging Asian woman. She was working it! Tight Citizens of Humanity jeans, a nice stiletto sandal, a breast-enhancing top and a Louis Vuitton clutch. She was going to get her hair done (why, I don't know because she looked flawless!). I couldn't help but remark to the stranger walking next to me.
This Man: "DAYUM! She's enough to make a guy start dating women again!!!"
Stranger on the sidewalk: "Yeah, man...tell me about it!"
Mahalo

This morning, Raymond and This Man were having coffee and talking. The news was on the television and across the bottom of the screen rolled the following about Star Jones-Reynolds.

"She" walked from the viewing booth area back into the front of the bookstore. Dressed in micro-booty shorts, a cheap frilly polyester blouse, covering a dingy wifebeater, "she" was about to get 'her' stroll up and down 30th Street. This Man couldn't help but shake my head and smirk--partly because 'she' looked hideous (I mean, out of shape, ashy legs and the ugliest, cheapest wig that this Man has ever seen) and partly out of sheer disgust. I'll admit, I've never been a fan of cross dressers, transsexuals or drag queens, but I am cordial and respectful whenever I find myself in their company. I suppose I can somewhat understand the struggles that they have to endure on a daily basis all while trying to maintain their identity.
So I'm browsing the video shelves filled with movies that feature black men, Latinos and twink boys , but not really caring what I was picking up (check out Gang ed 3: A cum-filled Ass) when BAM! BAM! BOOM!
"She" rushed back into the store, wig in hand, crawling to the safety contained within the store. I could hear the punched being landed even though I couldn't see the action going on. Someone outside the door was hitting 'her'.
"Are you alright?" the cashier asked.
"Could you please call the police." 'She' calmly requested. At this point, 'she' was in the corner of the store, near the s, butt plugs & magazines.
The other customer and I didn't make eye contact, but even I could sense that he was just as on edge as This Man now found myself. Then, I did something that even now I hate myself for doing.
I giggled.
I tried not to, but I couldn't stop myself. And I knew the situation wasn't funny.
Continuing to browse the likes of Dawson's 50 Load Weekend, Raw Thugs 2, Daddy s the Boys and The Twinks of Amsterdam, This Man could feel a sickening feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. No, it was guilt of being in the bookstore at 1a.m., browsing and kinda cruising. It wasn't that at all.
It was SHAME...at myself.
That's when I started to feel horrible. I tried to reason with myself by saying that maybe just maybe 'she'd done something and deserved the attack. Or maybe some guy had 'her' mistaken for someone else. There could've been a million and one reasons why that guy attacked her for all This Man knew, right?
Right?
I ed around for about 20 more minutes. The San Diego Police Department still hadn't showed up to take a report (see, why I feel the way I do with SDPD), but I was still among the shelves feeling like dog .
Meanwhile, 'she' was calmly waiting at the front of the store waiting for the cops to show up. I had to marvel at the fact that this 'woman' had just been sucker-punched, ridiculed and humiliated, 'she' still hadn't broken down and cried (the way I know I certainly would've). It's as if 'she' willed herself not to.
But maybe, just maybe if these cross-dressing streetwalkers would learn to defend themselves, I reasoned with my mind, then attacks like this wouldn't happen. I truly believe that. I've always felt that there would be less attacks on gays and lesbians if we learned to defend ourselves against those who like to attack either from behind or spontaneously.
Finally, feeling like a complete ass, I managed to get myself out of the video store. The incident had dulled my mood and This Man was no longer in the mood to cruise...or browse, or whatever the I was doing in North Park Video at damn near 2 in the morning.

Mahalo

No sooner than This Man had finished blogging yesterday did I get a phone call from Raymond. He sounded a bit concerned. I took the phone call while I was strolling along University Avenue in North Park.
" I was wondering, " he began. " Remember when we were at the bread shop and you introduced me to your friend Mike. How did you introduce me as?"
"Ohmygod! Have you been reading my blog?" I couldn't help but laugh at the coincidence.
"No."
"In that case, I believe that I introduced you to Mike as my lover."
"But I thought you said boyfriend."
"Did I? I thought I said lover. Why--does it bother you?"
"Well, no it doesn't bother me. Actually I think boyfriend is kinda nice."
"Yeah, so do I."
So there you have it. Raymond and I are about to enter those waters that This Man has for as long as I can remember, tried to avoid. My buddy, Jay and I chatted about it today and actually he encouraged me to take the plunge, but to keep in mind that relationships take work and that it was indeed time for me to try one out. I'm nervous and excited so keep on reading because This Man's Life is about to get interesting.

Mahalo

" I told my buddy at the nutrition store that I had to hurry home because my sex partner was meeting me later." Raymond told This Man over the phone. He was pissed at me (as well, he should've been) because we didn't get together Friday night for dinner. In turn, he'd lost a whole evening, waiting on This Man's sorry ass.
Sex partner?
Surely we were more than that. Or so I thought.
"You referred to me as your sex partner? Hmmm." I responded with.
"Well, I guess it's because I don't know what to call you. You're more than just a sex buddy, but even you've called me just your sex partner."

And that's how it began. The conversation in which Raymond and I are supposed to sit down and discuss what exactly we're doing. It's also the point at which, Lucy and This Man has said numerous times, is when relationships take a dive! The point where labels are given out.
'Are you my boyfriend? Girlfriend? Partner? Acquaintance? Lover or what?'
I'd driven to his apartment because we were going to spend the afternoon together, tending to an errand that he had to get completed. And it would be better if he and I had this conversation in person rather than over the phone.
"You're more than a fuck buddy and I care about you, " he said, while moving around in his kitchen. "But I can't really call you my acquaintance."
For a while we were calling each other 'sex partners'--as if we'd been paired up for an experiment (a la chemistry class), but we were more than that. You see, This Man really likes Raymond and I'm pretty sure he's as into me as I am of him. So yeah, he's more than a sex partner, but not quite my lover--but then I suppose he is my boyfriend.
See why This Man hates labels.
Later in the afternoon, this conversation was tested. Raymond and I stopped in Hillcrest for a brief snack at Bread et Cie when I ran into my buddy, Mike. It was time for introductions.
"Mike this is, um...well, my...he's kinda...Mike, this is my lover, Raymond." That's what I managed to stammer out.
I couldn't tell if Raymond noticed me hesitating on it, but I guess, this relationship thing is going to take some getting used to.
Be patient with me.

Mahalo

Even though the young, Indian, belly-dancing instructor with the banging body made the proposition to This Man on the Sunday before Memorial Day, the conversation has been ringing in my head every since. No matter what I find myself doing, I keep hearing the words that he'd suggested to me--all while asking myself what, if anything would I stand to gain from the situation were I to oblige his demand.
Here's how it went down.
Sunday, the night before Memorial Day, This Man was at Pecs with my buddy, Ray. The only reason we'd went in the first place was because, 1) It was Sunday night 2) there was no cover charge and 3)there would be MEN. So we get there and I run into a few men that I knew (read, had already slept with) before I spotted the belly-dancer. He was wasted and possibly high, I couldn't quite tell. At any rate, we get to talking and getting caught up and it's just a matter of time before there's a lull in the conversation (I guess, usually this is where he and I would find ourselves naked) when he mentioned that his birthday was next month. The only thing that he wanted for his birthday was the following.
He wanted to get "... gang fucked by a big group of Black men who all had big dicks. The more the better--he just wanted to do it." Oh, he also mentioned, " and I would need about an ounce of coke."
What the fuck?!
I mean, This Man was slightly cocktailed but I sobered up instantly. He was asking me to arrange all of this for him. So I would have to hunt for Black men in San Diego (that, in itself, is a hard enough task) AND I would have to provide him with an ounce of Tina. Was he fucking serious?!
He was dead serious.
"If you could make that happen, you and your buddies could have me for as long as you wanted." He said. But at this point, all I was thinking was, "Was this little fucker for real? He was asking me to do the grunt work while he gets all the rewards. HAPPY...FUCKING...BIRTHDAY!"
Here's why that whole thing bothers me. It's not that there would be other Black men like This Man involved. It's not that the belly dancer was truly being the 'brat' that he likes to describe himself as. And it's not the fact that it would be his birthday and I don't know about you, but I would never ask for a gang bang for my birthday (not when I could do something like that on a week night--hehehe). It's the fact that he thought that I would find it all amusing and would immediately jump onboard with the idea. Sadly he's mistaken.
I have no intentions of calling anyone to set up anything. And I'm sure as hell am not about to go out into the streets on a scavenger hunt to score some powder for this guy who's convinced himself that it's the only way he could get gang fucked is by having it.
So I made a decision right then and there. I'd realized that I'd spent too much time 'gassing his head up'. Don't get me wrong, his body is banging and the ass is tight, but not to the point where This Man would go against my own morals to satisify his greed.
And surely any Man worth his salt would agree with me.

Mahalo.

"You have reached the San Diego Police Department Western Division telephone report unit. Please leave your name, telephone number, incident number if known or address where the incident occured and someone will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you and have a great day."
At the tone, please record your message. When you are finished recording, you may hang up or press pound for more options.
BEEP.
"Hi, This is thatguyheath (of course, I gave my actual name, silly) from This Man's life. I've called this line numerous times in regards to incident number 14774. My car was broken into on June 8th in the neighborhood of Utah Street & Lincoln Avenue in North Park. I'm still waiting to hear from a police officer so I could give you further importants details, regarding what was taken and also I would like to give you the serial number on the bicycle that was stolen. If someone could please contact me as soon as possible it would be greatly appreciated. Oh yeah, I'm getting a bit irritated whenever I call this number, I get this stinking recording. You have a great day."

This Man is really starting to think that San Diego's finest is laughing at me.

Mahalo

(and contrary to what my friend, Jason says about my Seven for All Mankind 'A' Pocket jeans with the studs on them, these are not women's jeans)

In regards to the email that This Man received from Lucy, it turns out to have been an interesting twist in the tale. Let's recount:
I responded to Lucy's email, informing her of where I was and I pointed out that I wouldn't be at the computer for much longer. An hour later, she met me at the public library in North Park. She had both my backpack and messenger bag that were stolen from my car.
How was this possible, you're wondering. Here's what happened, it seems that whoever the fucker was that broke into my car, really didn't have a need for a messenger bag full of junk (it was all there) and they didn't need a backpack full of toilettries (even the mouthwash was still there). So they tossed both of my bags into the bushes around the block from Raymond's apartment. And that's where a man named John found them.
Rather than throw them away, John attempted to locate me. Through a crazy stir of events, Lucy was located and she, in turn went to meet John and recovered my things.
When L was retelling the story to me, This Man was speechless. My mouth fell open and I could feel the tears welling up in the back of my eyes. In fact, just writing about it makes my eyes water because just as I'd given up on the human spirit, a complete stranger and my dearest friend in the world both had my back. Later this evening, I tried to locate John. He lives in an apartment building for senior citizens. Sadly, he wasn't home when I stopped by his place.
I simply have to--if I don't do anything else tomorrow--thank him in person.

Mahalo

Today, This Man got an email from Lucy that read:

After my last post, This Man had an inkling of wonder about whether I should continue to see Raymond even after my car had been broken into while parked out in front of his apartment. Last night, I got to thinking about Raymond and realized that I did want to see him. So since I couldn't call him (1. Remember, I no longer have my phone and 2. I didn't know his number), This Man had to take my chances and linger on the sidewalk in front of his apartment and toss rocks up at the window. But before I would do that, last night at Claire de Lune coffee house, a group of drummers called Tam Tam Mandique were performing and I wanted to catch Raymond and invite him to see them as they bought some West African flavor to North Park. When I couldn't get ahold of him, This Man went and saw their performance alone. Later I did get to see Raymond and he invited me to stay at his place, watch a movie and spend some time together.
After having my car broken into, This Man was happy that I hadn't bothered to park near his place, but rather parked a few blocks away and walked.
I spent the night again and this morning, we were talking and I went ahead and confided in him that I'd secretly thought that the burgulary was some sort of omen that maybe I wasn't supposed to see him. Even after I'd played that tidbit of conversation in my head before, I hadn't expected his reaction to be the way that it was. He kind of had a look of genuine hurt on his face. I'm pretty sure that I'd offended him, even though I didn't mean to.
We're seeing each other this evening. I'll blog later, but now it's time for my run.

Mahalo.

Last night, This Man spent another night with Raymond (who, I must say, I'm really beginning to enjoy). I don't have to go into details about what happened but things turned out great because even though, This Man has said on several occasions that I wouldn't spend the night at his house, however last night, I did. This morning, after scrambled egg whites & coffee (he is a bodybuilder, after all), Raymond and I were looking out his window and happened to notice a young guy peering into the car parked on the street behind my Jeep.
We both noticed that it was odd, but then Raymond informed me that the car was in fact, for sale so I paid it no mind and went back to my breakfast. However, once in my car that's when I noticed that my bike was gone and that I had been robbed also! My messenger bag (don't worry, it was from Old Navy) was gone! And my other backpack that I carry when riding my bike was gone also (inside it was a pair of sweaty running shorts and a 12 dollar bottle of Kiehl's body lotion, as well as my CD player).
I couldn't believe this shit!
Oh yeah, and I have to mention that in my messenger bag was my wallet and my phone. So as you can see now, I'm officially triple fucked! No bike, no wallet, no phone. Why didn't the robbers just take the car also?
I hollered up to Raymond's apartment and informed him of what had happened. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when, after calling the San Diego Police and with it being a 'non-emergency', the dispatcher told me that a cop would call between 7a.m. and 10 o'clock that evening.
Needless to say, my day was already ruined. I spent the next few hours contacting Cingular to stop service to my phone, I had to alert the credit agencies as well as, call my bank to cancel my cards. Later on that afternoon, I was strolling through North Park, peering in the pawn shops in hopes of finding my bicycle but to no avail. But that's when, in the middle of all of my drama, who did I run into but The Dutchman. He was hanging out in his usual bar and came out on the sidewalk to say hello. Of all people to run into today, he he was. Tanned and dressed down in his work clothes, he invited me into the bar to relax, have a beer and to hang with him and his buddies. I know I shouldn't have taken him up on the offer, but it was refreshing to see his handsome face. So let's just say that This Man spent the rest of the afternoon with The Dutchman and every once in a while, I would ask myself, " How did a day that started off so bad, end up with me having a great time with a man that I used to be crazy about?"
Somewhere between my fifth and tenth Budweiser, This Man started questioning whether my having my car broken into was some sort of omen. I mean, was it possible that this was all a sign that maybe I shouldn't be seeing Raymond? Or maybe I shouldn't be spending as much time with him as I have been? I discussed this with The Dutchman and even though what he said, I agree with ( that this could've happened anywhere and to anyone), but still there was that part of me that wondered.

Mahalo

"You jump off of my dick one more time then I'm going to flip you over and I'll be on top! Then where are you gonna go!"
This Man told Raymond while screwing him from behind. We were in the middle of some hot, sweaty sex that would later leave us exhausted and drained.
But I have to blog about the evening that I'd spent with the Latin, firecracker-bodybuilder last night. We'd agreed to see each other around 8. This Man was around the block at my buddy, Ray's apartment--about 5 minutes away when Raymond called (just as I was calling him), saying that he needed to groceries and that we would need to go shopping. A quick trek to Trader Joe's then Ralph's, this ma was happy to be with Raymond while he foraged for our dinner.
It was in the deli of Ralphs that Raymond showed This Man a side of his true character (and man, was it sexy). We were standing in line waiting to get some sliced meat (pastrami, I think) when, in front of us was some anal-retentive, pretentious queen (we were in Hillcrest, after all) who decided at that moment, regardless of us growing restless, he was going to have the butcher slice his provolone cheese to his exact measurements. Not only that, but this ass-clown insisted on sampling each one of the cold cuts that she sliced for him. Raymond and I were starting to get a bit pissed.
"I'm about to go off on this asshole!" Raymond declared.
Did I mention how sexy RH looked in his new Cerruti 1881 eyeglasses.
"How about we grab the bagels and then come back?" This Man suggested. Even after grabbing the bagels and returning to the deli, Mr. Anal-Retentive was still there! Finally, he grabbed his meats and cheeses(sliced to his precise measurements, I'm sure) and was met by a piercing gaze from Raymond.
"Is there a problem?" the guy asked.
"Fuck yeah there is," Raymond began. "What the fuck man, we've been waiting here FOREVER behind your ass!"
"Hey, I waited my turn just like everybody else..." his voice was cracking. And that's when Raymond took the first step towards him. Mind you, Raymond is a pretty big guy. He's not a man that you mess with and not expect him to retaliate. That's when This Man's arm reached out and grabbed him. Just as the other guy decided to walk away.
In the car later, Raymond was apologizing that he'd showed that side of him, but I wasn't fazed.
I kinda liked it.
We had some amazing steaks later, good conversation (we joked about using a steak bone as a ball gag) and some amazing sex later on. While I was pounding Raymond from behind, that's when This Man asked if he would like for me to grab a steak bone for him to chew on, in order to muffle his screaming & moaning. It starting to seem like Raymond is winning This Man over more and more every day.

Mahalo.

I met my friend, Bonquesha back in 1996 while on my first ship in Bremerton, Washington.
Actually, he and I didn't speak to each other until my second tour to the Persian Gulf. We'd met through a mutual 'fag hag' and hit it off instantly! I can still recall the night. We were in the Persian Gulf, outside the city of Dubai in the Port of Jebel Ali. The aircraft carrier was with us so the local businesses set up shops on the pier and to keep sailors from venturing too far, a "beer garden"(complete with barbecue, beer & music) was erected. That's where This Man partied on that balmy summer night.
"Come and meet my friend, " she said, pulling This Man away from my umpteenth can of Fosters beer.
Bonquesha, as I would later call him was with some of his friends. True to his club-kid style, he was dressed in some super-wide leg jeans, a Diesel button down and whiter-than-white sneakers. He was a cute Puerto Rican with a look that made him pale enough to be considered white, yellow enough to be considered high-yellow and feisty enough that you knew that he was a 'Rican.
We chatted for the rest of the night. At the time, This Man was still in the closet, but there was something refreshing about his flamboyant behavior that made me want to be around him. For three years, Bonquesha was one of my best friends. He was one of the guys that was there when This Man came out of the closet. And whenever, one of us needed a good laugh, we never failed to cheer the other up.
I found myself thinking about Bonquesha and some of the crazy antics that we got into. So armed with my notebook and pencil (I haven't written with a pencil in years!), This Man got to writing.
"Bonquesha, remember that one time when..."

• On that deployment, during the Crossing The Line ceremony, you single-handedly represented for your whole division during the talent show. Even though many of the crew pointed, giggled and whispered while you strutted and danced, it was then that This Man learned about COURAGE and SELF-CONFIDENCE.
• We'd got an early day from work and a gang of us crammed in Deena's beat up Honda Prelude, got stoned and went to see the Seattle Mariners' midday game at the Kingdome and unlike the rest of the crew, we scammed and scored seats behind home plate instead of out in the cheap seats (we were even on TV!)
• You took me to see Kristine W. when she performed at Neighbours at the start of Gay Pride weekend. In fact, it was with you that I went to Pride for the very first time.
• How about when we left work early, drove to Tacoma to that Korean wig shop to buy all of that hair, with me and Victoria later that evening, giving you a bomb-ass hair weave (you truly did look like Aaliyah!)
• Or when This Man snuck out on my duty day to go out and party with you and the rest of our crew at Neighbours. And how I couldn't get drunk or stoned because I had to be back at work and ready to stand my watch at 4 a.m.
• How about when you and Victoria went to see the Spice Girls' SpiceWorld concert at the Tacoma Dome and you whores didn't tell me until afterwards. BITCHES!!
• And I couldn't ever forget how you outed and confirmed that Kevin (my crush) was indeed gay. How did you do this? By sleeping with his boyfriend (whom you'd met at Neighbours the night before) and telling me about it. Ironically, two weeks later, I would also sleep with Kevin's boyfriend and then tell you about it.
• OMG, when we went down to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Sitting in the Rainbow Room with you flirting with the boyfriend of the bar's owner. After working him over with your elementary-school Spanish, the owner, his boyfriend came over and asked us if we could leave the establishment.
• And I could never forget dancing with you at that club in Cabo--the one that had no ceiling. If only we could acquire that video!
• "The next time those guys fuck with you, you go to the ship's store, buy a knife and stab the bastards!" Remember that was the piece of advice that I'd told you when some of the guys in your division were starting to harass you.

Bonquesha, This Man misses you even to this day. I hate that we lost contact with each other. I hate that, against the pleas of your mother and me, you took the coward way out and got yourself discharged from the Navy. I needed you more than you'll ever know. I'm pretty sure you ended up in NYC or back in D.C., but wherever you landed, know that there's a man whose life you impacted and this is my small way of letting you know.

Mahalo.

This Man owes my good friend, Samantha 200 dollars and I owe my buddy, Jason 300. Thinking about how the hell I'm going to pay them both is enough to drive me crazy. But I know I'll manage it.

I just gotta figure something out.
And fast!

Mahalo.