Nice To See StevieB: That Time I Was Coached

By StevieB

It was spring time. When I lost my virginity. Well, the first time it was Spring as well. Kevin Allen and I, were rummaging around a pile of tossed out items left behind from tenants who were evicted out of a house next door to Kevin. Pulling open a box, the sun just beginning to set behind one of Colorado’s famous “fourteeners” the local nick-name for a series of mountains surpassing fourteen thousand feet tall. From our small town these mountains were on the edge of the world. The box gave way, and Kevin and I peered into the box. The golden-setting sun highlighting a naked man’s torso on the cover of a porn mag. A gay porn mag. We both attempted to play it cool, yet this was difficult as both our hearts had stopped beating. It wasn’t long before we sat in his bedroom viewing the stack of magazines noticing the rising bulges in each other’s jeans. By the time it was completely dark out, I was welcomed inside of Kevin. Forced deep inside of him to scratch an itch he had just realized needing scratching.

It was also Spring when I lost my “other” virginity. Just last Spring to be precise. From a dashing smile on a rugby player. Built like a brick house, solid in build and mind. He corrected me, quickly when we began to chat. “Not rugby, I play Lacrosse. A coach actually.” He said with a solid voice that made me melt. I then knew how Lacrosse coaches were supposed to sound. He was a straight-up and grounded man. He was straight-up too, about being Trans.

It was in my bedroom when I pulled the tee-shirt from his massive frame. The cotton of the shirt didn’t stand a chance against his rippled and veiny biceps. I stuttered a little. Just as I had done with Kevin. Imagining the unknown. “How would I do this?” With Kevin, it was easier. I knew all the parts; they were the same as mine. I knew I wanted to be inside him, I knew how to accomplish the task. But…. with the Coach, I… had never seen, I mean not in real life… a vagina. “oh god.” My eyes darted everywhere. “Just relax.” The Lacrosse Coach said. We’ll take it easy. This was unfamiliar to me, as I am always the one in charge in the bedroom. Me the one to ensure my partner to relax. Now I wanted to be the one in charge, but had to listen for instruction. I listened intently to how the device worked. I practiced. The Coach praised me for picking up so quickly, assuring me I was a natural. 

It. Was. Amazing. I finally figured out what the fuss was all about. Why those vagina things were so popular. Of course, only if they’re attached to a fireplug of a man. I mean, it truly helps if your vagina is attached to a solid muscle-bound Lacrosse player. If you’re gay, and had no intention in ever seeing one in real life. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: New York

By StevieB

The most terrifying feeling in the world is the moment when the plane touches down. You are gracefully sailing through the sky inside a metal tube, then suddenly you're jarred forward as the retro-boosters, or whatever they're called, instantaneously jerk you forward as the plane attempts to land. You feel the rubber tires skidding out of control, attempting to gain traction. A deafening metallic screech fill your ears. The floor underfoot feels as if it will tear away any second.

Every time I fly, I dread this sensation. Yet, I would never let this terror, as I see it, stop me from flying. Even though every time I take an airplane trip, I have night terrors for weeks. It's simple to understand that you can't have a vacation. A trip via airplane, without this 60 seconds of absolute soul scratching terror. It is the good stuff that happens on vacation you have remember. The bad part, fades away.

It's been a week since I took a plane to New York. The purpose of the trip was to attend a reception for my ex, Dalton. A wedding reception, for his wedding to his partner. Who he married. He with his new, me with my new. Although; is wasn't that long ago the it was he and I getting married. Well, long compared to the life-span of a Great Dane. If we had received a Great Dane as a wedding gift, Duke, as we would have named him, would probably, even with the best veterinary care, died four years ago. But, short compared to my memory.

Please don't get me wrong, I am not in any way pining away for a relationship from ancient history. It would be like me wishing I could wander the halls of The Great Library of Alexandria. Nor am I discontented. I have finally found someone to whom I mesh with in an astounding amount of layers. So, I bought a $700 suit and showed up on time. My hand in the hand of this amazing individual. What I am asking is, can you imagine standing up in front of your family and friends and make a promise for ever and always, then live long enough to see the other half make that promise to another. As the reception began, I began to hear the lowering of landing gear; quiet at first, then louder. Know-one else in the reception hall seemed to hear it. Suddenly a thud. I was thrust forward as shaking rocked the room. Every word; every speech, drowned out by a mechanical screeching sound. Rubber tires attempting to gain traction. My heart being stopped as it gets forced out of my chest. Then... the tires get traction... The room slowed and the mechanical scream subsided as quickly as it started.

I fear landings. More than I let on. They terrify me. They leave me a trembling child. Yet, if I avoided the landing, I would miss sailing through the sky. I get enormous joy knowing that Dalton is truly happy. That I shared a small part of his affirmation to Brian, legally his husband. The bad part will fade away. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: Steve In The Box

By StevieB

I have been attempting to eat in a healthier manner. This is a far cry from the back-lash of my stuff-everything-into-my-face-hole policy I employed after the Speedo clad cruise in February. There has been an increase of dinning on the Caesar salad at restaurants, and finding myself heading to vegetarian / Vegan place to dine. On my own. And enjoying it.

This is of course not calculating my dark, deep secret. My addiction.

I have been hiding this addiction from my friends and family. My complete chemical addiction to Jack in The Box. An addiction that I am powerless to conquer. As an example, I'll will give you last Friday: For lunch I ate my healthy prepared salad to get me through evening. I then left work after ten p.m. and made a straight path for Jack in The Box for a teriyaki bowl and three egg rolls. Which, I ate sitting in my Jeep in the parking lot of my gym. After happy egg roll time, I did go have a massively great work out, so there is that. After the gym I headed to the bar which I then closed. As I'm friends with the entire staff, I hung out after closing to watch a series of strange events, including a round of "foreskin shots. " Better if you don't ask. I was neither the shot glass, nor the drinker. But, I finally, in my life, feel cheated in that I don't have a built in shot glass.


 
Around four a.m. I headed towards the ranch. On my way I stopped off at... you guested it, Jack in The Box. Consuming a front seat full of horrible, tasty items like a bear eating a small goat. If the bear drove a well-apointed, yet dented Jeep.

So my secret is out. I require my friends to help me kick this self-destructive habit. A habit I'm powerless to stop. Jack. I'm braking up with you. I know you bring me instant happiness. I know how much you love me, yet it's a calorie filled empty love. You're just no good for me. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: Moving On

By StevieB

It’s been fun. No, really is been a lot of fun.

Mike and I moved in together on May 16th 2015. If you are a longtime reader of my blog, you know this move was a major change in my life. I ended a nine-year relationship, and was throwing off the binds that a toxic relationship can wrap around your soul. Suddenly I was free. It wasn’t on the level of Celie gaining freedom in The Color Purple, but for me, it felt like that.

We will soon be in our current apartment for a year. This is the place I had in my mind every night when I dreamed of escaping an unhealthy relationship. My vision of peace. All that time, painting in my mind how my own place would look like, how it would feel. Now, a year has passed, and the escape is just a memory. It is now the time for the roommate and I to move on with our lives. We have learned a lot in one year. The best lesson is how well we get along. Suddenly we were best friends, and most beneficial critics.

After a drama-filled search we have chosen a new apartment. The only thing we did not like about the current place is how far away it is from the city-center. The new place is close to downtown. Literally across the street from the train line, and a station. The only bad news is that we can’t move in until the end of June. I mean, our current lease is not over until the end of June, but I can’t wait for the new place.

I however, am already missing the feeling of the current place. It feels like Miss Celie, after leaving the farm gets a swanky apartment where she can do whatever she wants; whenever she likes. Now it is time to move on. Yes, the new place will be better. Yes, I’m now dating a wonderful and caring guy. It’s a simple matter of a chapter closing. For many years I dreamt of my own home. I imagined how it would feel. Now, we move on. It’s funny; life. If you live long enough, you’ll do everything. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: TMBBE

By StevieB

“I need to think up a nickname.” I said from the kitchen, directed to Mike, my eligible roommate, sitting on the Super-squishy-elle-shaped sofa of love. Mike cocked his head. “I mean when I blog. I’m sure I’ll be referring to The most beautiful boy ever more often… if all goes well.” Sitting at the bar, the most beautiful boy ever raised his head from his MacBook. He gazed over at me. “I have a name…” I then had to explain my blogging history. How “Fuzzy” my Ex was called Fuzzy for blogging purposes. How the names get changed to protect the innocent. The most beautiful boy ever, continued to look blankly at me over his glasses. “What did you nickname the apparently long string of twenty-two year olds that came before me?” Mike, my eligible roommate, laughed from the couch.

I can tell when people have not read my blog entries. I usually prefer this; when people have not read my past blog posts. Nothing is worse than when I’m half-way through an exciting story in regard to the life and times of StevieB, when they correct me on a detail as they remember it from my on-line diary. They most likely are correct, as my memory distorts as my dramatic retelling gets… dramatic. Other times it is comforting. I don’t need to tell Patrick how ten grade was for me, he already knows. He read the transcript.
 
But, for the long string of twenty year olds, I honestly couldn’t tell, nor remember, if he read about them, along with nicknames, in my blog. I honestly don’t remember blogging about them… other than the Olympic Swimmer. The Lebanese wrestler, whom I was afraid to talk too… The Amazing Mexican. Oh, God.. The Ginger… Mike, my eligible roommate, noticed how I began to drift off in a haze of ex nicknames. He snapped me back, just in time for me to lock eyes with my most beautiful boy ever. Head turned a slight to the left pondering his choice in me. “You could call him The Indian?” Mike blurted. “That’s raciest” I snapped. I guess your nickname for the blog will have to be, The Most Beautiful Boy Ever. TMBBE?

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

Nice To See StevieB: Purgatory

By StevieB
 
If there is such a thing as Purgatory, in the afterlife, I know what my Purgatory will look like. If it is like the Catholics describe it; a place of suffering inhabited by the souls of sinners who are expiating their sins before going to heaven, then I can tell what it looks like.

My personal purgatory will be spent wandering around the prepared foods department of a Whole foods.

Hours are spent with me dazed and confused moving from one bar to the next. Approaching the soup bar to squish the ladle down in over-cooked chicken noodle soup, or white bean chili. Then, to the deli counter to gaze upon the chicken wraps. Starving for something, yet not sure how the normal people of the world make a decision in a sea of choices.

Last night, I approached the area with the intent to pick up dinner. The boyfriend quickly made some healthy choices, and disappeared. Leaving me to fend for myself. I had the look of an eight-year-old, who after hiding in the middle of a clothing rack full of women’s blouses, emerged to find his Mom, gone. I was alone in Hell Foods. I entered the Whole Foods convincing everyone around me that it was a “soup night.” Only to find none of the eighteen dozen soups to be quite right. Maybe salad…..? no. It was either malaise, or my fear of food commitment that sent me into the desert for a plastic-boxed food vision quest. 

What seemed to be hours later the boyfriend called out from the edge of the desert. “Ready?” He asked munching on kelp-kale fun crisps. I left with a tiny container of tomato soup. My soul still hovering over the olive bar. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: Four-Eyes

By StevieB

After what seemed an insane amount of shopping, I have finally bought new glasses. This is my first pair of bi-focal lenses. And, it's the problem I'm having. I spend most of my day unable to see anything. I am constantly looking through the top part of my lens, designed for distance vision, to read and text. Then using the bottom section to drive. The optometrist did warn me, but really. At this point I would see better without glasses at all.

I will; however, keeping trying. But, if you see me without my glasses upon my face, you know not to inquire to their whereabouts. If you see me with my glasses on, I won't see you anyway. So I'll probably step on your foot. I'll apologize now. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: So Very

By StevieB

I went to see a new musical last weekend. I hadn't gone to enjoy legitimate theater in a while, so it was a great treat. It was a classic tale, finally turned into a musical. A story as epic as it is heartbreaking to twisted level that Shakespeare himself would of told.

Heathers.

Yes, the original dark and demented movie that started all modern writers down the long list of teenage angst movies. The 1989 classic was the cardinal rule on how a generation would see teenage life and hold a mirror up to highschool itself. I waited in anticipation how this story, the world of the late eighties would be re-told in a musical format. I sat in the audience, awaiting the start of the show like a resident of Scotland eager to see how Macbeth would portray the motherland.

As the epic fable began to unfolded, I realized that I was trapped in Happy Days. Not... Happy days, but the television show. See, the TV show Happy Days was made in the 1970's for an audience hungry with nostalgic notions of the 1950's. Middle aged folks could reconnect with their "happy days." I was unaware that my excitement in seeing this play was to see my high school days played in front of me. I am now in that age bracket where my teenage angst is a historic reference. Tales of my youth to be told by kids born the year Windows '95 came out.

The play itself was decent enough. The costume designer obviously had never seen a single episode of Saved By The Bell. You would think that there would be decent Guess or Z Cavaricci jeans at local thrift stores. I had to physically restrain myself from walking up on stage and re-tight rolling the male leads jeans cuffs. But, all things considered, I bet viewers of Happy Days thought that Fonzie was dressed in a non-authentic manner. So, I silently judged the cheap knock-offs of the shoulder -padded blazers, and off brand jeans to enjoy my youth played out in front of me. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: Run Towards Something

By StevieB

Over dinner a friend was detailing the cycle she was in over breaking up, then getting back together with her girlfriend. This was a relationship where it seems impossible to create a solid, healthy connection, and seemed impossible to end and moving forward. It was explained as an endless cycle of mistrust and conflict. No matter how painful the situation was, it was explained that it felt safer to continue the conflict than simply committing to ending the connection. Like the idea of being single, ending a toxic relationship was simply life-ending terror. More terrifying then the endless emotional abuse, relationship rollercoaster that was over-taking her life.

This puzzled me. Like ending a relationship somehow is an indication of failure. Like having the strength to let go is less important than the perception of the outside world judging the relationship. It truly isn't a case of running away from a "good fight" it is a case of running towards a "good choice."

“You don’t need strength to let go of something. What you really need is understanding.” ~Guy Finley

We have a tendency to crave and depend on external emotional support, we get this primarily from our relationships. Then, when we need emotional support because of our relationship, we feel there is nowhere to turn. We wait and re-live the same damaging issues over and over. Somehow expecting another external means of support,  so that we don't have to be strong. This is a means of bypassing the perceived lack of inner strength to rely on someone else’s. Meanwhile our inner voice continues  to scream that it is all wrong. This starts a vicious cycle of self-abuse. Feeling to weak to change your own situation, secretly wanting someone else to fix it.  Giving the conclusion that the problems and obstacles appear to be insurmountable.

What is needed is a possibility. A vision of what life could be. That safety and happiness can grow away from the confines of the relationship. Of any relationship, and on our own terms. This leads to a simple choice. A rational decision to seek happiness, and go search of it. The fear of ending a relationship is soon replaced by a unshakeable conviction that there was something better out there, and an unwillingness to ignore that knowledge. This rarely comes form external forces, but a commitment to one's own well-being. It’s about finding clarity on what you want instead. Giving yourself a goal to go toward rather than run away.

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

Nice To See StevieB: Looking Ruff at the Airport

By StevieB

I think I've stumbled upon a great design idea. Elizabethan Travel Pillows.

My job has me walking around the airport all day long. Lately I've noticed something. Well, beside the fact that people will attempt to pull their luggage through you like you are Patrick Swayze in Ghost. Although he would never receive roller-bag marks on his new Nordstom wing tips. What I've really noticed is that everyone who travels has a "C" shaped travel pillow wrapped around their neck.

So, here's my big design idea. Elizabethan collars, that are also travel pillows. Think of it, how great would you look heading towards your gate like a mid-sixteenth century to the mid-seventeenth century noble-person? This new fashion trend will leave our airports looking like the fashion houses of the high Elizabeth era. Families heading off to visit grandma, will look like the cast from Love's Labour's Lost. Maybe this would spark a whole fad. Lute shaped travel bags and the like. It's going to be huge. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: Adventure Time

By StevieB

I realized that I am an old gay man. This moment in my life occurred as I stood in front of the soda machine of my local Panara Bread. I was sporting my new cardigan sweater, sweats, and Uggs. I was dressed for comfort. Let's just say, that I would not be snapping a new Grindr profile pic in the Pandara bathroom. In my comfort driven ensemble, I approached the wide selection of iced teas. I was looking for a nice herbal tea. As it was 8:30 at night, I didn't want a tea that would keep me awake all night. I glanced over and spotted the Caffeine Free Diet Pepsi. Great! I could have it all!

This is when it hit me; in the recent past my nights were filled with dancing, boozing, and urban spelunking. Now I'm excited about caffeine free drinks.

That's it! I need to get back to scaring myself. I've gotten way too comfortable. I need to get back into doing things I love. Thinks that require risk. That's why I chose the fully caffeinated soda. I will drink the caffeine and go have an adventure. 

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

Looking Ruff at the Airport

By StevieB

I think I've stumbled upon a great design idea. Elizabethan Travel Pillows.

My job has me walking around the airport all day long. Lately I've noticed something. Well, beside the fact that people will attempt to pull their luggage through you like you are Patrick Swayze in Ghost. Although he would never receive roller-bag marks on his new Nordstom wing tips. What I've really noticed is that everyone who travels has a "C" shaped travel pillow wrapped around their neck.

So, here's my big design idea. Elizabethan collars, that are also travel pillows. Think of it, how great would you look heading towards your gate like a mid-sixteenth century to the mid-seventeenth century noble-person? This new fashion trend will leave our airports looking like the fashion houses of the high Elizabeth era. Families heading off to visit grandma, will look like the cast from Love's Labour's Lost. Maybe this would spark a whole fad. Lute shaped travel bags and the like. It's going to be huge. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: Birthday Eve

By StevieB
 
I like to think of today as, “Birthday Eve.” It’s the anticipation that something good is good to happen. Although whenever I think of it in these terms, I begin to sing the old Kate Bush song, Cloudbusting “Ooh, I just know that something good is going to happen… I don't know when, but just saying it could even make it happen.” The simple fact about is, I love for my Birthday. And the anticipatory thinking is just one of the best parts. The best part began last night….

We were walking through the grocery store. It was “date night” and my idea of a great date was a hamburger, followed by Krogering. I casually mentioned that I needed to pick up a boxed cake mix, because I wanted to bake a chocolate cake for my birthday. The look that was upon my date’s face was heart-melting. He had already planned to bake me a chocolate cake from scratch. God, I love my Birthday.

My day will bring adventures around the city. With one notable exception. Readers of my blog over the years will remember that there is one restaurant I go to on my Birthday. It is a historical fact, and unwavering tradition that I eat my Birthday Dinner at Le Central, Denver’s legacy French Restaurant. That will change this year. After thirty-four years in business, Le Central closed last September. My Birthday tradition is gone… just like my youth.

But, I will eat cake. And celebrate. My friends, will gather around, regardless of the physical location. I will celebrate the forth anniversary of my fortieth birthday. Meanwhile I will quietly sing… “I just know that something good is going to happen… saying it could even make it happen.”

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

Nice To See StevieB: Back To Class

By StevieB

Monday marks the beginning of the Spring Semester. Just the thought of this makes my head spin. It seems that just moments ago I was celebrating the end of the 2015 fall semester. My MacBook has not even cooled down from the massive amount of writing that I did, now it is time to crack it open, and log on to my on-line classes again.

Today finds me feeling a bit nostalgic about going back to school. There is no longer a formal return to the sacred and hallowed halls of my college, since I began taking all on-line classes. I somehow forget during these times of misty eyed revisionist history that the physical returning to the University also brought months of sitting in a class headed by close-minded idiot professors, droning on about their personal agendas. Although, if I am honest with my self, what I miss most was sitting behind hockey players who had allergic reactions to wearing pants. If I really examined my attending of classroom based classes, it was a trade off. Yes, I now avoid the close-minded Professors by taking my classes via computer, but I also miss hockey players falling asleep in class with the gym shorts slipping lower and lower.

But, I don't regret switching to my electronic class room. This means I can do my school work at one of the cities gayer coffee shops. With a wider variety of boys in gym shorts. On Monday I will have to scope out my territory. My new classroom. I will then quickly begin to countdown the days until May 9th. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: Heteronormativity and Oral Care

By StevieB

Being in a same-sex relationship has it challenges. I know that was the understatement of the century. We all know that living in a hetero-centric society, when you’re not the norm is ripe with issues. Yet, is seems that most of the time being part of the GLBTQ rainbow is down-right amazing. This different view on life, makes us happy to be unique. When asked about her struggles in life, Carrie Fisher stated "Find your tribe. Don’t wander around feeling different than everyone else.” This speaks to beginning a relationship with someone. The romantic path seems to be the same for everyone. Yet, in a society that sometimes unknowingly gives easier steps to male-female stereotyped relationships feeling different is sometimes hard to avoid.

I thought about all this as I stood in the oral care isle of my local grocery store. I was getting to the step of buying a toothbrush for my Sweet Baboo. If you have never been in love before, this is a critical step in mating. You wake up at the other person’s house and discover that they have gone out and purchased a new toothbrush for you. It means that they think you’ll be sticking around. It symbolizes a bond; a next step in the dating world. I was ready to make this plunge and declare my deep “like” by presenting him is his very own toothbrush. It was a huge step, and I was nervous.

This is when I noticed how toothbrush manufactures were a bunch of heteronormative jerks. Jerks I say. Every two pack of toothbrushes had a perceived masculine color and perceived feminine color. Oral-B- Purple and green, Colgate- blue and pink, even Reach had only blue and pink. It was a straight couple toothbrush conspiracy. From standard to electric brushes, if you wanted to save money and by a two pack, you were forced into hetero-centric roles. Sure, it’s easy to buy to separate blue toothbrushes, but it’s the point of having to buy two separate toothbrushes. To cram them together, like your just like everyone else. Straight couples don’t have to buy separate packaging. They don’t have to decide who gets the blue brush. What? One of use should be forced to decide to take the pink brush role?!?! Outrageous.

Being in a same-sex relationship truly does have challenges. But, I refuse to wander through the grocery store feeling different than everyone else. Carrie Fisher wouldn’t want me to do that. For now, my same-sex partner and I have separate packaged toothbrushes. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: Bangkok

By StevieB

The boy I'm dating has gone away. To Thailand. On vacation.

I was very excited to learn about his exciting adventure when it was first shared, so long ago... I believe it was our first date. Sitting over pizza hearing about the far distant future plans. As I got to know him, the date of the over-seas trip still loomed so far out in the distance. He would share plans, how his group of college friends planned to all take the trip together. The person heading up the plans for the group was a "A-type" trip planner, I had full faith that the trip would be safe and fun.

Suddenly it's January. At the last minute the couple whom were instrumental in coordinating the trip had to cancel. When I first heard of the cancelling of the coordinators my Daddy Bear protectiveness wanted to kick in. I asked if the boy friend was still going to go. When I was told, "yes" I started asking, Do you know the hotels? Do you know were you're staying? Your flights? Have you packed? That means that the Sweet Baboo was flying to Thailand without a lot of the preparation. He had relied on others to plan.

Last Friday I kissed him goodbye and set him off on a plane. This was after he forgot his own luggage, realizing it upon check-in at the airport... I told him that I wasn't worried... There are certain times when you realize that you have fallen in love with someone... times when you don't doubt that love for a second. I am positive he and his friends will have a blast in Bangkok. But, just don't tell him how much I am worried, or how I miss him. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: Apple Watch

By StevieB

I honesty didn't see the reason for an Apple Watch. Mostly because my phone hasn't actually left my hand in over a year. Well, when I sleep I guess. Then it's on the pillow next to me. Seriously. I guess during sexy time, but sometimes even then. Don't ask. The only time my phone isn't on my person is when I'm showering. So if my phone is always in view why would I need another version it it on my wrist? 

That all changed when I unwrapped the most amazing Christmas gift ever.  Well, after my Slaughterhouse Five tee shirt. As soon as I began to bond with my wifi enabled friend, I learned what all the hype  was about. It's simply amazing. The best part, other than looking like Dick Tracy as I send texts; is the ability to send and receive texts in the shower. And, change songs by simply touching my wrist. 

Using my Apple Watch during sexy time  will leave my hands free. Think of the possibilities.

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

Nice To See StevieB: Goodbye 2015

By StevieB

You hear a lot, this time of year, on how New Years sets the tone for the entire year. New Year's Eve of 2014 was a bad time, full of bad choices. But, that very night served as a catalyst to rewrite my whole world. My New Years resolution for 2015 was to rebuild Steve in a whole new way. And, as I stand on the door step of 2016, I'm happy to report that I successfully accomplished it. 

I shrugged off a toxic relationship, a toxic job, and a toxic life. In spring of 2015 I closed a lot of doors behind me. I said goodbye to a home and relationship that was serving to feed unhealthy and abusive behaviors. I also resigned from a job that had me stuck on a never-ending treadmill. It took until June to discover me again. In a new home, surrounded by unconditional support. I had a new job where I was rediscovering what progress felt like. By the end of December 2015, I was figuratively a new man. 

The re-set button has been pressed; let's see where 2016 takes me. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: School Is Out

By StevieB

Have I mentioned that this is my last week for my semester? I know I haven't blogged a lot about my classes this semester. This was due to the fact that I had a Science class which attempted to kill me, and a creative writing class that left me bored. Horridly bored. Both classes were painful. Not in a "oh I gotta write 1,000 words on Lucius Tarquinius Priscus" kind of pain, the "make it stop, this is idiotic" kind of pain.

My Science class was entirely on-line. This meant that the tiny bit of fun in doing labs was even taken away. It was eight weeks of drawing diagrams of molecules and energy waves. I am a Right Brain kind of person, the go with your feelings kinda guy. I quickly discovered that a Science class, on-line was the wrong choice. I would be on route to failing the class miserably if not for the help of the Boyfriend. He happens to be some sort of medical scientist statistician working of HIV programs. So, he may-or-may-not have helped me. But, your associated with my University, he didn't. At all. Totally. And, why are you reading my blog, you've got university stuff to go do.

The writing class was just about "finding your voice" and "setting the scene." Those are the last things I need to think about my writing. The second I think about "finding my voice" I seize up and won't blog for two months. The last time I thought about becoming a better writer, it took Patrick from Pacspad blog a week to talk be down from the "I'm done with blogging" ledge.

So, this week marks the end of another semester at school and good riddance. Onward to Spring semester and Ancient world Religions...

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

Nice To See StevieB: Christmas Tree

By StevieB

To begin our celebration of Christmas, the roommate and I decided to head to the mountains in order to get our own live Christmas tree. We had decided that we would go massively overboard for Christmas this year, so this was the first step. This choice stemmed from me having just ending a nine year relationship with Mr. Scrooge himself, and the roommate, whom had roommates for years, never had his own celebration the way he wanted it to be done. First step? Go murder an innocent tree and drag it back to the house. I declared this trip into the woods triumphantly to the boy I’m dating, (still known as TMBBE, or “The most Beautiful boy ever” for the lack of a better nickname) as a normal, healthy super-Christmasy thing that normal people do. This is when he calmly informed me that he never had a Christmas tree before. Like ever…ever.

My mouth dropped open. I stammered. “Like growing up you never had a tree?” He flatly informed me that no, his family had never. The next question that came out of my mouth will forever be noted as the stupidest thing I have, or ever will say. Please note the stupidity level… I said…. “But… where did you put your Christmas presents?” Oh. My. God. There is not a more ignorant thing I possibly could of said at that point. And I said it. I was an ignorant baboon asking someone raised Hindu where they kept their Christmas presents if they didn’t have a tree. The Most Beautiful Boy Ever was polite in response to my stupidity.

What I learned is that if you take a grown man, who was raised Hindu, to a Christmas tree lot, and ask him to pick out any tree he wanted, you're going to see a lot of Christmas repression un-cork. It was non-gentile to Santa elf in 3.5 seconds. I have never had so much fun picking out a tree.

I had spent nine years with someone who saw Christmas as a hassle. A chore that involved assembling the same artificial tree over and over. Then, suddenly I was standing in a muddy field watching someone search for the perfect tree. I watched the grin on his face grow. A grin that comes from the magical act of family going to the tree lot and taking home for the perfect Christmas. I was cold, I was muddy. I was never so happy. 

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