Nice To See StevieB: Black Alert

By StevieB

I have become addicted to two new TV shows. This rarely happens because I am usually to busy to watch television. Since I have one more week until school starts, I am enjoying this time. The first is a Korean show designed for fourteen year old girls. But, since I am a fourteen year old girl, it fits. It is Boon Soon; or, Strong Woman Do Bong-soon. To sum it up, it is about a Korean twenty-something that has super powers. She needs to hide these powers from the dreamy boy she loves. Hilarity ensues. The next, is an easy guess. The new Star Trek Discovery. Although the last episode left me a bit bored. I do; however, love one new aspect, since we (Star Trek nerds) know the RED-ALERT announcement, it was exciting to hear a new alert. BLACK-ALERT! BLACK-ALERT! This announcement is when the ship jumps in a new, unseen way for the Star Trek universe.

This immediately made me want to make this sound as a new ring tone. Having my phone loudly ring "black-alert" with the computer background noise, was super-cool. This to replace my traditional, Star Trek "red-alert" ring tone.

I, being super proud of finding this ring tone online, then having to download conversion apps, wanted to show off my new ring tone to the boyfriend last night. Filled with pride, I launched my new BLACK-ALERT sound. Sure he was going to be proud of my nerdiness and also connect it to the new Star Trek Discovery show. "Baby, you want your phone to announce black alert?" He paused to let that sink in. It did not sink into my brain. "Baby. Your phone is going to scream, 'black' alert?!"

Oh God.... I didn't even....

I guess I wont have a Star Trek black alert ring tone.

Nice to See StevieB: Stevie's Choice

By StevieB

I am glad to say that I have survived this semester of school. Now it’s time to relax and play, “school boy on winter break.” I’m very excited.

As I’m on winter break, I have time to finally complete some over-due chores. This morning re-ignited a debate in the house. Where to stay the three days before the cruise in February. Or, what gay B&B shall we flop at for three days over Valentine’s Day. As you no-doubtfully are aware, I’m a gay ghetto gay. Meaning, if given the choice in life, I would love to live in the center of a gay neighborhood. Hence the choosing of vacationing a couple of days early in Fort Lauderdale verses Miami before our cruise on the 15th. To enjoy Fort Lauderdale’s gay village.

Two Guest houses top the list, one The Cabanas Guesthouse and Spa lives up to its name and has a gay men’s spa. Complete with hot stone massage. The clothing optional pool is also a nice, and necessary benefit. 

The other B&B has a clothing optional pool as well. It’s a... leather themed guest house called the Inn Leather. Seriously. The glossy brochure highlights a real leather sling in every room. Patrick suggested I inquire if they are Corinthian leather. “Our slings are covered in a fine Corinthian leather.” Well, it will be over Valentine’s Day... Nothing says “I love you’ like an in-room sling. Whilst the Spa is nifty, the Corinthian (as we’ll now call it) also has free WiFi, and a better spread for breakfast... for me.

With either choice there is only 9 weeks until I get to recline next to a pool. All naked. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: Plumbing

How Clean is Your Lube?

By StevieB

“It is time to buy a new house.” Was declared to me several weeks back. Apparently the sink in the master bath had finally clogged from the beard trimming and "Just For Menning. This was followed by weeks of playing the “who’s going to fix it” game. That tedious dance where one of us needed to take the initiative and fix the sink. Also several weeks of using the hall bathroom to brush teeth. I found it easy to begin my teeth cleaning process by loading my toothbrush, then making a dash for the hall bathroom to complete my chore. That, or brush my teeth in the shower. Which reminds me....

Do you find it weird to brush your teeth in the shower? I only ask because upon mentioning my sink repair procrastination and shower brushing to a fellow blogger, they felt it was equal to licking cats.

Today was the day. The sink would yield to my manly, magnificent power. I had to start by digging out all the items that found their home under the bath cabinet. I made a note, when we do buy a house, only pedestal sinks. As I discovered a third container of J-Lube from antiquity, I thought of a new British television show. “What’s all this, then...” Two nicely dressed grandmotherly Brits will come to your house and sort out all your lubes and... bedroom aids. They will be overly sweet as they reorganize your porn DVDs and recycling some, inventory all your lubes and check for quality and safety, and ensure all your “devices” are sanitary.

In ten minutes the sink clog was cleared. I then spent an hour organizing the endless amount of supplies I have collected over the years. Guess I used elbow grease to finally find my tub of Elbow Grease. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: Nerd Boy

By StevieB

I know I have an idiot grin on my face. It's just that I'm so unreasonably happy to have my picture taken with a Police Call Box.

Nerd boy.

Sunday was Comic Con day in our fair city. And after standing in line for three hours, we got in. The three hour wait also meant we missed Colin Bakers (the sixth Doctor for all you "norms") speech. It was okay though, I stood at the autograph line and stocked him from afar. This was after I followed a warren of Banes around the convention center. Who knew face masks would a turn-on? (I did.)

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: Tea for Steve

That hot pink Tupperware pitcher,
behind the "sports drinks" and soda...
is my tiny stash of iced tea.

By StevieB

Over the dinner table my friend Michelle announced that she would attempt to give up Starbucks for a month. An amazing feat for a woman that announces her daily arrival at Starbucks on Facebook. A daily treat for her, and a great check-in for Facebook friends. When she announced this change for better health, the wheels in my head started to turn.

Could I really give up my four daily helpings of Diet Coke?
The life giving elixir that brings sun shine to my day, yet also brought a little padding to my middle. We all have read the articles on how diet coke isn’t better than regular sodas. In fact it may be worse. Tricking your body to release even more chemicals to absorb the unnatural chemicals directly into your fat cells.

My self-declared challenge was to cut out the cola, and switch to iced tea, the real stuff, un-sweetened. Although at some restaurants I'm finding that I do have to drink the strange powdered mystery tea. So far, so good.

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: I Just Want to Go to Sleep

By StevieB

I am answering questions posted by Sean from the Just a Jeep Guy blog. The questions are based around the bedroom. Precisely sleep.

Number seven; Do you eat in bed?

It has been well documented that I do, in fact, use my bed as one would use a dining room table. Songs have been written about the dining habits in our house. Pac over at Pacspad.blogspot.com mastered the dance hit “White Duvet Cover”  back in 2011: White Duvet Cover.

That being said; The lesson of spilling food on the dog has not necessarily been learned. Not that I’m naming names. My bed dining habits have recently increased due to to massive amounts of homework, and my purchase of AppleTV. My Philosophy professor works under the following program; talk about a topic, say David Hume, for an hour,  then assign a four page essay on said flaming philosopher. Yay! This means that every spare moment I have, normally reserved for seeing the sun, working out, showering, interacting with other individuals on the planet, or... blogging has been given up to writing report after numbing report. Well... there has been a lot of appleTV time.  God, I love the internets. I can finally watch Rugby, or Australian rules football when I want to. 

Yep. Many hours of eating in the bed. Nachos, while writing about Bundle Theory, and Panda Express while Aussie rules footy is blaring. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: He Shoots, He Misses

By StevieB

Sorry about the gap in my blogging. I have been working on a project for work that has me directing a team from 4AM until 2PM. After work, I have been taking an hour nap, then heading off to the gym, before school. The project ends this week, so I just might get my life back. During the small slices of time that I haven’t been working, texting Pac, attempting to stay awake in school, or just passing out, I have become addicted to filling up the remainder of my time watching British Football on YouTube. God I love British Football.

I showed up last week to start my work project to find an amazingly hot, sexy, oh-my-God-I-want-to-lick-you guy assigned to my team from another unit. Being a responsible adult, and with my gaydar bleeping in full tilt, I immediately started my reconnaissance work to find out his story. Single, gay, and goes to the gym regularly (which was obvious due to his solid arms and beefy wrestler frame) he plays on a soccer team, and also attends the same college as me. Score. We chatted. He touched my arm. We flirted. He gave me his number so we can “hit the gym” together.

He’s seventeen.

Yeah. He goes to my college in a “transition from high school program” due to bullying. The same high school that my bud Jerrod’s daughter graduated from last year. So… and I am not making this up, the reason I found out his age was due to the greatest hits of the eighties.

“What is this lady singing? Zan-a-doo?” The beefy wrestler-turned soccer player asked.

“It’s not a lady, it’s Xanadu. Ya-know, the muse to open roller discos.” I said as if I was explaining a common fact like cheeseburgers, or piston engines. His left eyebrow moved up a little. “What year were you born?” I asked.

“1995.”

Olivia's voice wistfully floated through the ether ... Xanadon't ... As I turned on my heel, I mumbled, “I’ll be in my office” for the rest of my life.

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: I Just Want to Go to Sleep

By StevieB

To hop upon the theme bandwagon, I’m going to answer questions posted by Sean over at his Just a Jeep Guy blog.  The questions in this round are about the bedroom. Precisely sleep.

1. What do you wear to bed?

Upon hearing the warning bell to the First Class passengers to leave their warm beds of the Titanic’s staterooms and assemble on deck, I would show up sporting gymshorts and a grey wife beater. I would be cold, yet hip. I sleep in gym shorts because I pretty much do everything in gym shorts. Sans work. During the summer I sleep without a shirt leaving open to several occasions waking to find a deep imprint on my side of the TV remote control. So I really sleep in gym shorts and the TV remote.
This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Coffee in a Cardboard Cup

By StevieB

 

Yesterday, I took the day off as I had one goal in mind. To spend the day at my favorite coffee place to work on filing my taxes. It started off smoothly, after ordering my non-Venti latte at the non-Starbucks, I settled in at a table by the window.  Within moments I had linked to my files and began entering numbers into the government e-form. As I reached out to enjoy my first sip on my non-Venti latte I brushed the large cup and sent it flying across the table and onto the floor.  Pouring the entire cup near the feet of the next occupied table.

To be clear, none of my coffee actual hit my fellow gay coffeehouse patron. It must of just been the shock of a random handsome man tossing his full steaming latte in his general direction that sent this Kindle reader in to a tizzy. This empowered Mr. Grumpy to lecture me on proper coffee ownership, the responsibilities and burdens that adults have when deciding that they are mature enough to purchase coffee. All traits that I was, in his opinion, lacking. Mr. Grumpy then decided to explain how I had misjudged my ability to handle drinking coffee, and I should be sorry for involving him in my poor judgment.

There are only so many times you can apologize for a simple accident. In my case it’s four. And because he apparently was such a great judge on who should, or should not be left responsible with a paper cup of coffee, I offered to buy him his next cup of coffee. After my fourth time apologizing, his outrage of my destroying his morning became exceedingly humorous to me. When I pointed out that he might be acting like a Chihuahua whose tail had been stepped on, he grabbed his kindle and coffee stomped to another table. Mere-moments later I could hear him retelling his torturous affair to someone on his phone. He spoke loud enough for me to hear, “Some complete idiot threw his hot drink at me.” Silence… “Yeah. Then he called me a f*#king chihuahua…. No! That’s not funny!!”

Needless to say, I bought a Diet Coke in a bottle and completed my taxes. I’m getting a refund. Maybe I’ll buy sippy cups with some of the money. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Boulder, My Boulder

By StevieB

My career path has taken me to a new position in scenic and perplexing Boulder, Colorado. Right at the base of Colorado’s Rocky Mountains, it is the home to the University of Colorado, the JonBenet Ramsey murder house, and where Mindy McConnell harbored an illegal alien for five years, I admit this city has me scratching my head.

Now as college towns go, Boulder is pretty much the same as Austin, Texas. Sans the humidity, and the self-righteous inclination of being Texan that all Texas cities embrace.  Boulder possesses the same left-leaning green, outdoorsy, dare I say it “hippy” sensibilities. This is mixed with the extreme wealth of massive corporate headquarters, and the university with its drunk kids (wearing pajama pants at one in the afternoon) sprinkled with Prius driving university professors. 

This makes me want to experience the Prius section of the local Toyota showroom. A sea of tweed jackets adorned with elbow patches. 

“I’m sorry sir, city law mandates that all cars must be sold with bike racks, it’s what they come with.” The haggard salesperson would say. 

"Well. I see.” Says the tweed jacket. “I am from a place where this isn’t a requirement and we don’t end our sentences in prepositions.”

I will come right out and say that I love Austin, Texas. With my past interactions with Boulder, I am pretty much the right candidate for its unique quirkiness. The most expensive item of clothing I own are my Solomon trail running shoes, at any point in my life I’d rather be on my mountain bike, and I too spend my days wandering around the town in a red hunting hat.

What I’m scratching my head about this week is the empowered bicyclists and perderites. Sorry, not empowered. Jerkish.

As a bicyclist and pedestrian myself, I love the separated bike lanes and protected lights to help keep everyone safe, yet there seems to be a level of dogmatic hatred of cars that is embraced in this environment. Maybe it's due to the sadness of having to finally cut off their yellow wristband? I have not received so many dirty looks, fist shakes, or “fuck you’s” since my days in the Mormon Church. Bicyclists hate cars in Boulder. I just smile and nod, knowing that my Solomon trail running shoes are way more expensive then theirs, and I'll never have to cut off a cheap symbolic wristband of a fallen idol.

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: Xmas Recap

By StevieB

How was all y’alls Christmas/Feastiveness?

Despite not having vacation time at the new job, mine was pretty damn good.

Christmas Eve looked like this ...

You’ll notice the gentle ubiquitous and ironic snow falling like a Thomas Kinkade painting. Just less icky. Most importantly Christmas Eve brought this…

... an anglophile Christmas pudding. I can still taste the delicious treat with its massive amounts of tasty liquor. Christmas morning brought this….

Incase you are not schooled in the art of identifying Dyson vacuums in the wild, that is a Dyson in the middle of the Xmas explosion. I also got this…

In case you’re not a raging nerd, this season I’m sporting a Doctor Who scarf. Nerd.

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: Cookies

By StevieB

Today [Ed. Note: This post originally appeared on Saturday, December 15 so do not go around bothering StevieB for cookies. They are certainly all eaten by now] truly is the most wonderful day in the year. AlthoughI am not necessarily saying that Andy Williams should suck my pink steel, forthis reason anyway, I do prefer today over the day that the silver-backed daddybear with the velvet fetish comes down my chimney.*

Today is Christmas cookie baking day!

Picture it. Denver. 1998. A tradition begins when a smallgroup of lifelong friends decide to get together in Frank’s recently remodeled kitchen to bake cookies.  One move across country, one kid, husbands, countless hairstyles, and jean sizes we’re still gathering to bake cookies.

During the passing of time I have gone from swimming in 34 size jeans, to squeezing into 38, then back to 34’s I still look forward to today every year. 

*So much for this blog post being a warm holiday greeting.


This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Christmas Adjacent

By StevieB

Wreath by Bonnie Brae Flowers

I attempted to build up some Christmas spirit yesterday by heading to the local Town 'n Country garden center turned tree lot. The place personified Christmas, the hot husbands in their best Carhart buzzed away on chain saws, whilst the sister wives supervised the older children. All were adorned in themed sweatshirts smeared with felt Santas and reindeer made in church crafting circle. I was there not to buy a tree, but to smell the evergreen (which alway makes me hum Barbara Streisand) mountainy scent in an attempt to spark the pilot light of spirit down in my dark cold soul. I'm completely lacking in spirit this season. Completely.

I did, however; get a handmade evergreen wreath for the front door. I decided that commitment to the whole decorating thing was too much, yet a gourmet wreath would be Christmas adjacent. Nothing like a 40 buck circle of tree limbs to mark the season.

As the sixteen year old girl rang up my over priced ring of forest scented loveliness, she asked if I needed my receipt. My response was that I did because I may want to exercise my right of the thirty day return policy and bring back my wreath in January. The stunned silence on the girls face was just enough to launch my weary soul into the feastavice season.

Fa-la-la-la.

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: Biking

By StevieB

I really want to ride my bicycle.

I have this thought every time I pass my well neglected bike, as it sits lonely on the front porch. Don’t get me wrong, I do ride my bike quite a bit. It really is more about going for a ride with someone else.

At one time Denver, CO. had a full page in its gay newspaper dedicated to GLBT social clubs. If you were a transgendered lesbian that enjoyed crock-pot cookery, there was a social club for you. During this heyday of social networking, I believe there were no less than three gay men’s bicycle clubs. One for the guys who thought Kevin Bacon was hot and yearned to race, one for the lovely ladies of transgenderedness, and one for … my style of biking.

My "style" is that I just want to put on some Lycra, my helmet adorned in the same graphics as a 1970’s shag-wagon, and my fingerless gloves to peddle around Cherry Creek. Is that too much to ask?

I guess I need to start networking.

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: Our Future

By StevieB

New Years Eve 1997 found me in a private room at Saint Joseph’s Hospital sitting in a chair pulled up close to the bed of my partner, Randy Jorgensen.

I was flipping through the channels trying to find Dick Clarks’ Rocking New Years Eve on the television. Randy having been re-admitted for complications with pneumonia lay in the bed trying to find a comfortable spot. With the IV and feeding tubes he found it hard to see the screen. His family long since left for their comfortable homes in the ‘burbs it was just the two of us waiting for the ball to drop. In many aspects.

When Dick Clark showed a clip of London and how they brought in 1998 something in Randy and I just snapped. We both quickly started to make plans to travel to London in the new year. We decided to get an expensive hotel in the gay part of town, we would travel on day trips to see every castle and walk every museum and lay on a blanket in every park, forgetting that he could barley walk to the hospital room’s bathroom. 

We spent the next hour planning our vacation. Every once in awhile we would lock eyes and know that everything we were enthusiastically deciding upon would be complete fiction. We were lying to each other; Randy was close to the end of his hard fought battle with AIDS. But on that New Years Eve we pretended that we were in control of our future.

During my late teenage years I found myself sitting with my Father in his Bishops Office at our town’s Mormon temple. We were discussing my future mission around the world to bring Mormonism to people and cultures that desperately needed to be brought to Christ. After my mission and becoming a man, I would attend BYU in Utah. This would find me a degree and a wife.

We discussed my mission and coming back to our small town so that my wife and I could bring more children into our extended family, raising the population of smiling happy Mormons in the church. Every once in awhile we would lock eyes and know that everything we were enthusiastically deciding upon would be complete fiction. My life would quickly take me down a path far from him and the Mormon Church. We were lying to each other, but in that church office we pretended that we were in control of our future.

Soon the ball dropped and 1998 saw Randy living for only twenty-two days. On the twenty-second day I helped Randy slip his skin telling him that we would see London someday. Feeling somehow apologetic that we didn’t get to go. I felt the same overriding guilt was I did when my Father heard me say that he would not get grandchildren from me as my life was on another path.

It’s funny, this weekend I started to read a biography about a young man’s struggle with the church and homosexuality and suddenly I realized that I really want need to visit London.  

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: Captain America

By StevieB

As I walked up my front sidewalk last night, I carried my backpack filled with my school books that were as heavy as my head filled with Dayquil and thoughts of the seven more pages needed for my term paper. My head cold had moved into my chest and as my class let out so did my lungs.

As I moved like a zombie up my sidewalk I encountered a ten-year-old Captain America. He had obviously attempted to claim his reward for looking so damn cute by asking for Kit-Kat donations from my front door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t have any candy for you this year.” I shrugged my shoulders as the mini-Captain of all that is right in America tilted his head, not buying my story. “See… I had to go to school with a cold… and I have a really hard homework.” Suddenly I started in telling Captain America why I failed to have the proper tariff of candy. “ See… I have really hard homework, and I start a new job on Monday…and...”

Captain America’s Mom, Mom America, was down the sidewalk and didn’t hear me whine about how hard my life seems. Nor did she see what happened next. Captain America reached into his loot bag and pulled out a full sized Snickers bar and handed it to me.  Just like a true hero, he called out “I hope you feel better!” as he ran down the street.

And that’s how Captain America saved my life.

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: Panda Express

By StevieB

I spent the entire day yesterday writing my term paper. I have entitled it my "Mos and Po-Po" paper. Not realizing that I had wasted an entire day sitting at the dinning room table with nothing but the dog staring up at me, around seven p.m. my stomach decided it was time for me to stop clicking away on the keyboard and throw some food in it.

Without considering the social norms of good grooming, I grabbed the Shar-pei and headed out onto the streets for nourishment. I have a level of guilt for patronizing the new Panda Express fast food chain that has opened up recently. I have always dined at the locally owned and operated Chinese take-away, but after a day of writing in my sweat pants, I feared that Mr. Wok would assume that the zombie apocalypse had begun, and this particular zombie had a taste for Asian brains, and I would be shot in the head.

One should not fear being mistaken for a zombie and shot just because one desires Chinese food, but one should also take a shower and remove ten hour old Pop-Tart crumbs from one’s beard before heading out into public. So I went to Panda Express.

They don’t judge.

As I did my zombie shuffle up to the “Order Here” sign, the guy behind the glass sneeze guard smiled and said “Hey, we chatted on Scruff!”

Peering into his dreamy blue eyes and swimmers build wrapped in a fast food uniform, I recognized him as well. My stomach and other bits growled. I thought, it’s Mr. “watts up” and “your hot.”

Pondering his very bad grammar, I quickly thought, who am I to judge the proper use of you’re versus your? This hot twenty-two year old wants to give me his egg rolls. Under the panda embroidered polo shirt is a six-pack that thinks I am hot. I smiled my best “How YOU Doin?” smile and ran my hand over my right pectoris muscle covered by my coffee-stained tee shirt.

I then grabbed my to-go bag and retreated out of the restaurant like a defeated Mongol warrior, yet giggling like a Japanese schoolgirl.

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: Lose the Suit

By Stevie B

I decided recently that spending my life sitting in a cubical under florescent lights hammering away on resumes is not the life I need.  I have been in the boring, yet safe human resources field for twelve years. Change in my life was clearly needed.

Yesterday I had my first interview for an amazing new job. I adorned my “interview suit” and headed to a local health club for a management position. As I sat down in the waiting room I sized up my competition. Clearly I had been in the corporate world a little too long. It quickly dawned on me that of the ten other interviewees; I was the only one in a suit. Being a health club, the standard dress is polo shirts and khakis. Everyone around me, including the staff conducting the meetings, sported athletic wear. 

As we began the interview, I was asked why I wanted to leave a comfortable office job for the chaos of a gym. I tap-danced through my beliefs of always wanting a crazy job with the buzz and excitement. The standard questions you give in an interview, the ones I’m usually asking, were easy to answer. It’s funny and very true that the hardest person to interview is someone who has worked in hiring and recruiting.

Sitting in the Manager’s office in my imported power tie, and after I unintentionally corrected the interviewer’s knowledge of labor law, we both attempted to see if I was not a square peg being forced into a round hole. She asked about my passion for the fitness industry. I did my best to explain that I’m really just a gym guy.  I truly live in gym shorts and tee shirts and I’m most happy out on my bike or at the gym. At the end of the interview I had the overwhelming urge to rip off my tie and shirt and show my hole filled undershirt.

The lesson I learned is to dress the part. Dress for the job you want.

We will see if I get a call back.

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: Gym Bag

By StevieB

A Zen Master once said “The Atlantis gym bag is the new gay pride flag.”

Deep in its meaning, true in its declaration.

I carried my Atlantis Cruises gym bag like a true disciple for years. Recently while I stood naked in the locker-room it self-destructed in front of me. Just fell to the earth and faded into dust. Kind of like Christine Aguilera. With less flames.

I had a moment of naked silence for my gay cruise memento. Then as I stood over the ashes of my dearly departed and rubbing the hairs on my stomach, I realized the next chapter in my life. I quickly dug like a vulture through the dead bag and pulled out my phone. “I’m calling Dalton!” I declared knowing he is the only man to care about my naked moment.

“Hi. The zipper just ripped out of my gym bag, now I have a reason to buy a new Puma backpack.”

Realizing how A) shallow B) gay it sounded as I said it. “Uh…. Great…. Good for you?”

Dalton is the only man I know that will give me mock praise and concern when I want it. That’s why I love him, he patronizes me. Tiny moments in your life sometimes need to be shared with someone that unconditionally loves you.

“Tell you what. I haven’t given you a birthday present yet. What If I make that your present?” Dalton said in that tone that always makes me feel all warm and safe.

An end to an era. Out with the old, free bag with cruise purchase with it's never ending smell of Gun Oil and in with a rocking Puma backpack.  

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: Gym Talk

By StevieB

“Get a spot?”

I heard this request yesterday at the gym. As the overbuilt muscle was directing the request towards me I stepped up to the incline bench. I’ve been in this gym everyday at the same time with this same guy. Yet I had no idea who he was, due to my lack of social skills and philosophy of get in, get done, get out. He struck up a conversation whilst pressing ungodly amounts of iron down to his chest. Together a couple more reps were pressed out then with the bar back in its holder then overbuilt muscle struck up a conversation.

After a couple of minutes of discussing the gym and other routine topics he stated that he had me figured out, either I was a get in, get it done, get out guy or a raging asshole. I retorted that I was both and had him figured out as a Sociology Major at DU, but apologized if I’ve been ignoring him.

I always ignore everyone at the gym, going back to high school weight lifting class. This is primarily because I don’t want to be perceived as “that gay guy that leers at dudes”. I acknowledge this is because I stick to my own business and it’s a gym, not a bar. But am I really still forcing upon myself self perceived homophobia? Am I still caught in the loathing of being perceived as an effeminate fairy? When I was young it was self-preservation. One wrong look and I could get pounded. Now I out weight most guys.

I guess at this point I could be a little friendlier. I can also release the survival skills I built in high school.

 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.