"You beautiful chicas come in here!" The Cuban bar hop yelled to the girls from across the street of the most hopping street in Miami on a Saturday night. "Come on in! Entra chica bonitas, es gratis para ustedes! Mira!"
"What about for me?!" Berto yelled from across the street. "I am no chica man!"
"Que Hola man?" the Cuban bar hop yelled back, "only if you bring your amigas contigo."
"What do you girls think?" Berto asked his friends.
"It looks kind of scanky," Larita commented, "como basura."
"It is free," Jasmine Vanilla commented, "if we don't like it we can leave."
"That is true," Larita replied, "but you both promise me if it sucks or there are a lot of dirty guys coming onto us like dogs we leave!"
"Of course my horse," Jasmine Vanilla promised. "We have Berto here to protect us also."
"I will always have your back," Berto looked into Jasmine's blue eyes, "I promise you as long as I am around nobody will hurt you."
"So what is it? You coming in?" The Cuban bar hop yelled with a smile.
"Yeah man," Berto yelled back, "vamanos."
Berto and his two friends entered the club. On the stage was a band playing salsa music, the music Jasmine Vanilla felt through her veins pumping to her heart. She loved the music like she loved rice and beans and tostones de platanos. The music made her heart beat in sync to the music.
Jasmine Vanilla, a girl as white as snow, blond hair and blue eyes, was not a native to the Caribbean latin Americans but fell in love with the culture on her various trips to Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic and Cuba. She swore that the Caribbean latinos were vastly different then the South American and Mexican latinos, a distinction very few people could differentiate unless they were of Latin decent.
"Wow, live music!" Larita yelled and danced her way to the bar, Berto and Jasmine Vanilla followed.
"What do you girls want?" Berto asked pulling out his wallet, "it is on me."
"I will have a Cuba Libre," Larita said with a smile.
"The same for me," Jasmine Vanilla said to Berto.
"Dos Cuba Libres Mi mano!" Berto yelled to the bartender.
"Cuba Libre!!" The bartender yelled with a smile and threw the bottle of Bicardi Rum in the air flipping it around once before catching it and pouring it in three separate cups.
"Cuba Libre!!!!" several men sitting on bar stools around the bar yelled "Yeah!! Cuba Libre!"
The bartender filled the glasses with coke and handed them to Berto, "we take our Cuba Libre very seriously tu sabes mi mano?"
"De verdad," Berto shook the bartenders hand slipping him a five dollar bill trip, "start a tab for me amigo mio."
"No problema mi pana!" The bartender tucked the five dollar bill in his shirt pocket.
Berto handed the girls their drinks.
"To a long life full of happiness and friends!" Jasmine yelled proposing a cheer.
"Salud!!" Larita and Berto yelled, they clanked their cups together and drank.
"Mierda!" Larita coughed, "That shit is strong!"
"Just how I like it!" Jasmine fought back the cringe of a stiff drink burning down her throat.
"That is my girl Jasmine!" Berto yelled, "she can drink anything!"
Just as Jasmine finished her Rum and Coke with a lime the band stopped playing.
"We don't do this very often," the lead singer said, "but we don't usually have such a talented artist in our midst, and she is here. Aqui!! at this poor Cuban piece of trash bar!"
The crowd laughed "Hey!!" The owner of the bar yelled with a smile, "you want punch!?"
The lead singer laughed, "maybe a little later," he laughed, "no but seriously we have a very special guest here, her name is.....drums please...."
The drums played...
"May I present to you," the lead singer smiled, "Rosa Maria Martinez!"
Everyone cheered, whistling and yelling loudly.
Rosa Maria Martinez, a famous latin singer in the late 90's, known throughout the latin world, came from the shadows of the corner of the club nobody seemed to be aware of, or that it had possessed such a famous and esteemed person.
"Aye Dios Mio!" Larita yelled, "it is actually her! I haven't seen or heard from her in years."
"Yes," Jasmine Vanilla was fully aware of Rosa, "ever since she confessed her love to a woman she had lost most her popularity in the latin world."
"It is sad," Larita said quietly to herself. "She is such a talented artist."
"Shhhh...." Berto hissed trying to listen to Rosa.
"Gracias," Rosa Maria took the microphone, "Gracias amigos y amigas. I did not expect to be welcome back to Miami so warmly. Come to think of it... I have not been to Miami in several years."
"Somebody get the woman a drink!" Someone from the crowd yelled.
"Wow!" Rosa said as she was handed a shot glass full of rum, "the drink of my people."
She took a drink, everyone cheered!
"Enough talk," Rosa said fighting back the strong drink in her stomach, "this first song is to my ciudad, Miami!"
"She looks great," Jasmine Vanilla admired her idol begin to sing the latin rhymes to the city of her upbringing, Miami.
"Let's have some shots!" Berto proposed to the two girls.
One shot turned into two, then three then four... The drunker Jasmine Vanilla became the more she danced, until she got to a point where she could no longer dance and had to have some air.
"I will be right back amigos," Jasmine said and stumbled out the back door of the club.
Berto began to follow Jasmine....
"She will be alright," Larita grabbed Berto's shirt, "dance with me."
Jasmine had just made it out the door before she began to feel dizzy and vomited in the back alley. She regained her breath relieved to feel a tiny bit better and sat down on the street, leaning against the concrete of the building.
She tried to clear her thoughts, she had a hard time thinking outside of her love sickness for Louise, her love which barely began, never really ended and didn't seem to get anywhere despite her efforts.
She wondered what to do with her heart. Something so broken only hurting her more and more everyday. She wanted to discard it, destroy it, burn it, anything to make the pain go away.
"Ughhhhhh!!" Jasmine Vanilla groaned and took another drink, attempting to drowned her sorrows.
"Oh!" a voice from the open backdoor way of the club. "this spot is taken I see."
"No, no!" Jasmine Vanilla said politely only to realize that the voice was from her idol Rosa Maria MArtinez herself. "Please have a seat."
"Ummm, seguro," Rosa sat down next to Jasmine, "I see you don't smoke, mind if I light up?"
"Not at all," Jasmine tried to force a smile but was so deep in thought, sorrow, that not even Rosa could cheer her up, "please be my guest."
"I used to come to this club often when I was a little younger," Rosa lit the cigarette.
"is that right?" Jasmine Vanilla asked.
"Yes," Rosa said with glossy eyes, "I swore I would never come here again."
"Why not?" Jasmine asked with curiosity.
"Well, it was probably in the mid nineties," Rosa said opening up the book of what was secret and unknown, "before I was famous."
"What happened?" Jasmine asked.
"I would play at this club," Rosa inhaled the cigeratte, "I was in my early twenties and already the lead singer of my band. I played here every weekend. I guess you could say I was lucky my dad, who is a straight up Cuban, had close ties with the owner of this club. That was my foot in the door.
"So I played here. I played passionately, my whole life ahead of me. I sang songs of love, life and loss.
"But I knew nothing of these things..." Rosa stared at the top of her cigarette, she watched as the end slowly turned from bright white paper to ash, "I sang the words but didn't feel it in my heart."
"Sometimes I wish I knew nothing of love," Jasmine said looking down at her shoes.
"Don't ever say that!" Rosa snapped, "so.... I sang every weekend hoping to be noticed by a talent scout, but nobody seemed interested.
"I didn't understand the words I was singing, it is kind of like speaking a language that you don't really know." Rosa inhaled her cigarette "La passion!!! What is your name?"
"Jasmine," Jasmine replied.
"La Passion Jasmine!!" Rosa smiled, "Don't ever forget that!"
"The passion?" Jasmine asked.
"Yes!!" Rosa said, "the key to every success in vida, life is passion. It is also the key to happiness. The reason nobody recognized my music at this time was because I was missing the passion!"
"So how did you get 'la passion'?" Jasmine asked searching inside of Rosa answers to her own questions."
"It all started one stormy night," Rosa reflected back 15 years ago, "we had more customers then usual, I thought for sure that someone would recognize my music as good and give me more popularity thus enhancing my career in music. I was singing my music and then suddenly saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. I was surprised to even be attracted to a woman, much less a white woman with blond hair and blue eyes."
"Hey! What is wrong with that!?" Jasmine laughed.
"Nothing except at that point in my life I had never been with a woman," Rosa laughed, "but that night I was more surprised to be attracted to a gringa then the fact that I was indeed attracted to a woman."
"That is kinda funny," Jasmine said laughing, "Who would have thought, you must have known you were gay before hand."
"Exactly," Rosa flicked the butt of her cigarette across the alley, "As soon as she looked at me, I was in the middle of singing, and I forgot the words. I was in awe, kind of like seeing the ocean for the first time, beautiful and words cannot describe. I started singing, I sang that entire night with a passion I had never known before, la passion. She watched me sing all night."
"Did you ever talk to her?" Jasmine asked.
"After the show she stayed to help us put our instruments away. I gave her a private lesson in playing the guitar. We became instant friends, the best of friends in fact, she came every weekend to hear me play, and my music became better and better."
"I played best when she was watching me, the only blond in the crowd dancing and cheering. She brought me drinks between songs, she even told me I sang best when I had a few shots of Tequila. Perhaps she was right."
"But I knew inside, I sang best when she was there watching me. We spent hours talking after closing hours on the roof, smoking cigarettes, sharing a bottle of Rum.
"That is where she confessed her love for my music and more importantly her love for me. My life would never be the same."
"Ah amor!" Rosa pulled a flask from her jacket and had a sip, "Things were really great for us, our secret love..."
"What happened to her?" Jasmine reached for Rosa's flask and had a sip preparing for a seemingly heart wrenching story.
"I left her," Rosa said with regret in her eyes, "I was discovered and had a record deal. I was to be recorded. She wanted to come with me, I begged the producers to allow her to go, but they would not allow it."
"Why not?" Jasmine took another sip.
"They caught us kissing on stage, we were both really drunk. It was no longer a secret, and the producers refused to sign a lesbian. I lied to them and told them it was a one time thing and one never happen again."
"Oh my gosh!" Jasmine responded. "I am shocked! you are so open now!"
"I ended it," Rosa Maria Martinez looked at the stars, "that was the night I shall regret forever and I swore I would never come here again."
"Why tonight?" Jasmine asked.
"I was hoping to see her and beg her for forgiveness," Rosa said, "I don't even know what she looks like anymore, its been over a decade, then I saw you."
"ME?"
"You look exactly like her 15 years ago," Rosa looked at Jasmine, "I thought you were a ghost of my past, I had to follow you outside to make sure."
"What a compliment!" Jasmine said with a smile.
"So now I barely know you and I have already told you what the press has always wanted to know," Rosa said, "I can tell I can trust you not to share this with anyone."
"Of course not," Jasmine stood up, "I hope that you find her."
"Do yourself a favor Jasmine," Rosa stood up, "When you have 'la passion' you hold tight to it because if not you may end up spending over a decade regretting."
"Gracias," Jasmine let the words sink in and returned to her friends.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
First Day of School
"Ehhhh.....Take your seats....." Mr. Kim struggled for the words to end the sentence but couldn't come up with anything but "type thing."
All of the students sat down at their over sized desk in the under sized classroom of ten. Private Burrows reflected on when she was put on the detail last year to move the massively huge desks up two to four flights of stairs to replace the smaller more manageable desks.
Private Burrows looked over at Specialist Dick Muffin, the most senior ranked member of the classroom (which wasn't saying much), with contempt. He looked at the rest of the students with a puffed out chest, not unlike a cock ready to fight anyone that undermined his authority, or lack thereof.
'Why did he have to be in my class?' she questioned and remembered when he took moving these very desks a little too seriously.
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"Now the LT has given us a direct order to replace these older smaller desks with these brand new bigger desks in the classrooms of this here Korean Language School. Hooah!" SPC Dick Muffin strained his weak puberty strained voice to be heard over the young soldiers as he chewed on the tip of a cinnamon flavored toothpick.
"Excuse me," one of the other Specialist raised her hand, "but aren't these desks bigger than the stairway itself?"
"By God, when the LT says get the desks replaced with new ones, it is not our place to question 'how we will get this task done sir?' but 'what is the time allotted for this mission, sir?'" SPC Dick Muffin replied to what seemed to everyone else as a legitimate concern."Now Private Burrows, you seem responsible, you take these three privates and start work on the fourth floor, clear out the old desks from the classrooms, then report to me."
"Uhhhh..." Private Burrows replied unsure what to call someone who was in a position of authority but no stripes, "yes, Specialist."
The four soldiers started walking up the stairs, analyzing the dimensions of the stairwell itself.
"Wasn't there a part in the ASVAB that dealt with space depth perception, and a small amount of engineering?" Private Burrows asked the other three soldiers. "There is no way these huge desks are going to fit up these stairs, did any one of you try lifting one of those desks?"
"They are heavy!" One of the privates replied and took off his camouflage cap.
"It will take at least three of us to carry the desk up the stairs," Private Burrows tried to envision how such a task would work, "one pulling and two pushing."
"That could work!" another Private said and pulled the sleeves up revealing his tiny arms.
Private Burrows visualized the young private with his tiny arms attempting to lift the elephant sized desk up the stairs. She looked down at her own small pencil like arms and had serious doubts about their personal safety.
She couldn't help but imagine what a disaster this would turn into.
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"For the love of all that is Holy keep pushing!" Private Burrows yells from the top of the steps pulling the awkward sized thing.
"I can't, my arms hurt!" The weak private no older than 19 years old yells out.
"Think of your family at home!" Private Burrows yells out, "if not for yourself do it for them! Can little Billy live without a dad?"
"Who is little Billy?" sweat rolls down his forehead as he tries to lift and push the desk an inch closer to half way up the first stair case to the second floor, "I don't have any kids."
"Do it for freedom and for your country. Hooah!" The other Private said to Private Skinny Arms imitating their red headed leader SPC Dick Muffin.
"Yes Sir! SPC Tool Bag!" Private Skinny Arms began to laugh while releasing his grip from the massive obnoxiously huge desks.
In an instant the desk fell backwards like a run-away steam engine ready to crush anyone in its way, unfortunately Private Skinny Arms sustained most the force, crushing his small bones, every single one of them.
'How would I ever tell the family?' Private Burrows thought and snapped back into reality, which was....nobody is hurt yet... she had to come up with a plan to succeed the most difficult physical task assigned to her during her first week of training at the Defense Language Institute in Montery, California.
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The group of young soldiers entered the classrooms and began to remove the desks from the inside and into the hallways.
"I have an idea!" Private Burrows picked up one of the desks and turned it upside down.
"Turn it upside down?" Private Skinny Arms asked.
Private Burrows slid the desk across the floor. "You ever slide down the stairs on your knees?"
"With or without carpet?" the other Private with a smirk.
"You idiot!" Private Skinny Arms punched the other private on the arm and laughed, "carpet of course!"
"Ouch!" the Private grabbed his upper arm massaging out the pain caused by Skinny Arms. "Are we going to slide down the stairs on our knees?"
"No, we are going to slide the desks down the stairs," Private Burrows replied with a mischievous grin, "thereby accomplishing the task faster."
The Privates lined up the desks in a line and one by one slid the desks down the stairs of each floor. Private Burrows on the fourth floor sliding one desk down to Private Skinny Arms on the third floor who then slid it to the remaining Private on the second floor. The noise the desks made crashing against the walls of the stairway was insurmountably the loudest noise on base.
It only took 15 minutes to transport all the desks from the fourth floor to the second floor. They felt much accomplished and Private Burrows felt an overwhelming confidence that she had indeed overcome such a task in record time.
"Alright," Private Burrows motioned for her fellow soldiers to gather round, "that was fast, now all we have is one floor left, let's get this done before they see us being so reckless with government property."
"I am not sure how anyone walking by this vicinity would not be able to hear that awful noise of a desk going down the stairs and then crashing into the wall," Private Skinny Arms points out feeling a little uneasy about the whole situation, "let alone hundreds of desks."
"That is the point," Private Burrows pointed out and pushed a desk down the stairs to the first floor, "let's get it done fast before they notice the noise and come to investigate."
Not much time passed and the Privates slid their way past being noticed, literally. The adrenaline pumping through their young veins gave them energy enough to feel that they could carry the giant brand new desks from the Container and into the School, even the fourth floor seemed plausible.
"Okay same, concept, except reverse," Private Burrows walked toward the container and up the ramp, "we will slide these up the stairs instead of lifting them."
"Won't it scratch the surface of the brand new government issued desks?" Private Skinny Arms asked.
"Maybe a little," Private Burrows measured the consequences of such an action, "but I personally don't want that huge desk falling on either one of you breaking your heads, help me pick this up and turn it upside down."
"You got it," one of the Private answers and helps left the desk, "we need more help, what does this thing weigh?"
Private Burrows wondered if the officers who had ordered the desks chose the heaviest and biggest desks to torture the young soldiers forced to carry them up stairs into the classrooms. Sometimes Private Burrows thought these same officers spent their entire Army days between naps and coffee breaks coming up with ways they can make everyone's enlisted life more difficult.
"The hardest part will be flipping them over," Private Burrows encouraged her Privates under her delegated authority.
Once they had gotten one desk flipped over carried to the stair case, they proceeded to lay the desk on the stairs where it sat at a 45 degree angle.
"Okay," Private Burrows stepped out of the stairwell, "you two push it up, but do it as fast as you can to gain momentum, the minute you stop the harder it will be."
"Ahhhh!" one of the Private yells out, "you know a thing or two about physics!"
"One, Two," the two Privates grasps the desks preparing for an uphill run. "Three!"
They go running up the stairs, the desk successfully relocated within two minutes.
"Is it scratched!?" Private Burrows asks the Privates panting from the intense climb of their life.
"Let's see," They flip the desk on its side and examine the surface, "Negative!"
Private Burrows felt much relief and accomplishment, 'work smarter not harder,' she thought.
"What in Sam Hill is going on here!?" a loud voice echoes through the empty hallways.
The hair stood up on the heads of all three of the soldiers and they knew this wasn't good. They were stunned unable to speak as they saw a figure of a man walking toward them.
"We are moving desks sir," Private Burrows says with a tremble in her voice, "we are on the detail to move these desks inside the classrooms."
"Not like that you aren't!!" The officer's rank began to shine as he approached the Privates, this must have been the LT himself.
"Sir, we are not strong enough to conceivably perform the task by carrying these desks up the stairs without risking injury," Private Burrows tried to sound convincing hoping but not remembering if the other two Privates had their sleeves rolled up exposing their bony arms.
"So what you are trying to tell me PRIVATE," the LT gave the Privates the worst look they had ever seen, "is that you are not STRONG enough?"
"Yes, Sir," Private Burrows answered knowing it was the true answer but not the correct answer. She had never really completely conformed to the Army way of life of obeying and never asking questions, doing everything the conventional way, there was no room for creativity in the Armed Forces, no different answer then the one taught.
"Never accept defeat PRIVATES!" The LT screamed at the top of his longs chanting off some Army Value they had been forced to learn.
Private Burrows wondered how performing a task in a way that reduces injury while at the same time got the job done was accepting defeat.
"So I want you to do this task the right way," the Privates exhaled in dread of having to lift the enormous and heavy desk up four flights of stairs, "the desks right side up, carrying them up the stairs one by one."
"I would like to see him do it," one of the Privates whispered.
"Who said that!!!??" The LT yelled out.
Everyone felt the blood rush to their heads and they knew things went from bad to worse.
"Well then," The LT's neck veins appeared distended from anger, "Since nobody claims it. You will all work all day and all night until this task is done!"
The LT began to walk away, "and your senior Specialist Dick Muffin will make sure you do it. You can thank your battle buddy!"
It was a long night and SPC Dick Muffin refused to help the soldiers, sweat poured from the poor soldiers bodies, saturating their BDUs and the Privates couldn't help but feel they were being punished for doing things a smarter way, different then the LT had wanted. There probably wasn't a scientist, engineer, physicists, or Doctor who would argue that it was indeed more intelligent and less of a risk for injury to do things the way they had been doing.
SPC Dick Muffin wasn't in agreement, "You Privates had to do things the stupid way instead of the Army way and now I am stuck here watching you when I could be out downtown drinking!"
'The Army Way," Private Burrows thought as she strained her broken muscles awkwardly pushing what seemed to be desks that got heavier and heavier as the night passed, 'Why is it the Army Way is always the most difficult way? Is the Navy Way any easier? Should I have joined the Air Force? I bet their way might be more user friendly and less straining.'
A part of Private Burrows wished that a desk would fall down the stairs breaking someone's leg and then they will understand the risk of doing things with what she perceived was the 'idiotic way' synonymous with 'Army way.' Perhaps then things would be different... 'maybe if enough people get injured doing things the 'Army Way' then we can start changing the way things are done.'
She didn't have such luck. They had performed a miracle and still managed to make it to Physical Training after a whole four hours of sleep.
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SPC Dick Muffin sat comfortably in his chair resting his elbow on the fruits of their hard labor, their night of torture, the desk.
Private Burrows looked around the classroom and calculated that it had taken them 10 minutes to carry each of the desk upstairs and ripped at least five or six muscles a pieces forcing them to twist and rotate their body parts in unnatural positions as they did everything they could to move the beasts of academic necessity, and to move them 'the Army Way'.
Contempt was the word she felt for SPC Dick Muffin, the prior service guy who apparently thought he was better than everyone else. Private Burrows wondered how long it would take the others to realize how much of a prick he was.
Today was the first day of class, 'they will probably figure it out by the end of the week,' Private Burrows thought trying to focus on the dry erase board.
Mr. Kim wrote his name on the board.
"My a name is......a ...... Mr Kim," he was an older Korean man with a thick accent, "I.....uhhhhh.. will be your teacher.....uh...... type thing."
The image of Mr Miyagi creapt into Private Burrows' mind. 'Wax on wax off.'
"Uhhh.....Stand up....Er ro nay yo...." Mr Kim raised his arms, "uhhhhh.......Ka.....type thing."
All ten of us in an assorted type of uniform, Navy, Air force, Army and one Marine stared at each other with questioning eyes while we stood up from our chairs.
Curiosity filled their minds trying to interpret exactly what this man was wanting.
"Ka!" the old man commanded and started walking around the room, circles around us.
"He means 'Go!'" SPC Dick Muffin commanded in an arrogant tone. "Walk around the room!"
Everyone's eyes shifter to SPC Dick Muffin and they knew at that moment that he was indeed as his name implied a Dick Muffin. Nonetheless they all walked around the room.
"So! So! So! type thing...." Mr. Kim stopped and repeated, "So!"
"That must mean stop," the red headed Private First Classes said in a normal tone of voice.
They all stopped walking in circles and stared at their new teacher.
"Ahn Ju Say yo!" Mr. Kim commanded in a soft tone of voice and sat down.
"Sit down," one female Specialist said trying to remember the Korean word for 'sit down.' "ahn ju say yo?" she repeated.
"Yes...uhhhh...Good good, you catching on," he said to the Specialist, who apparently had some college education coming into the army as a non private.
'No wonder she is so smart,' Private Burrows thought as she fought back the urge to close her eyes and take a one minute nap.
"I don't get it!" The short skinny Marine said in a loud tone of voice attempting to get the attention of the teacher, "you have us walk around in a circle and stop, then sit down...I mean what was the point of that?"
"Uhhhhh..." Mr. Kim looked confused and didn't understand the question. "I....uhhhh....teach you Korean...uhhhh....Han kook mal.."
"I understand you are the teacher," the Marine readjusts his uniform, "I just wanna know why you had us walk around the classroom several times, were we supposed to be counting, or switching seats?"
"No man!" the PFC began to laugh a little, "he is giving us commands in Korean and we are supposed to be learning them and doing the commands."
"Well, why doesn't he just tell them to us in English?" the Marine replied, "I was so confused I thought we were switching seats."
Mr. Kim looked confused as if he didn't understand what the Marine was questioning and looked over at the female SPC for help.... "uh SPC McAtten, could you please...uh explain...u know?"
"He didn't tell us in English because we are learning Korean," SPC McAtten wondered what she had left her Pennsylvania town to engage in.
"Oh I get it now that you put it that way!" the Marine responded, "I thought he wanted to assign seats or something... I mean I am fine here where I am sitting. But I get it now, continue Mr. Kim." the marine motioned at Mr. Kim.
Private Burrows' mind wandered as she looked over the one Marine in class. She thought about the 'Army Way' and how much better it must be then the 'Marine Way', was it really true that they were all muscle and no brain? If that is true then this Marine must be the smartest Marine there is having been given the opportunity to come to this language school. Perhaps he was the only Marine with a brain.
That was the first day of school, the beginning of an adventure none of them will forget and friendships that shall remain unbroken.
All of the students sat down at their over sized desk in the under sized classroom of ten. Private Burrows reflected on when she was put on the detail last year to move the massively huge desks up two to four flights of stairs to replace the smaller more manageable desks.
Private Burrows looked over at Specialist Dick Muffin, the most senior ranked member of the classroom (which wasn't saying much), with contempt. He looked at the rest of the students with a puffed out chest, not unlike a cock ready to fight anyone that undermined his authority, or lack thereof.
'Why did he have to be in my class?' she questioned and remembered when he took moving these very desks a little too seriously.
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"Now the LT has given us a direct order to replace these older smaller desks with these brand new bigger desks in the classrooms of this here Korean Language School. Hooah!" SPC Dick Muffin strained his weak puberty strained voice to be heard over the young soldiers as he chewed on the tip of a cinnamon flavored toothpick.
"Excuse me," one of the other Specialist raised her hand, "but aren't these desks bigger than the stairway itself?"
"By God, when the LT says get the desks replaced with new ones, it is not our place to question 'how we will get this task done sir?' but 'what is the time allotted for this mission, sir?'" SPC Dick Muffin replied to what seemed to everyone else as a legitimate concern."Now Private Burrows, you seem responsible, you take these three privates and start work on the fourth floor, clear out the old desks from the classrooms, then report to me."
"Uhhhh..." Private Burrows replied unsure what to call someone who was in a position of authority but no stripes, "yes, Specialist."
The four soldiers started walking up the stairs, analyzing the dimensions of the stairwell itself.
"Wasn't there a part in the ASVAB that dealt with space depth perception, and a small amount of engineering?" Private Burrows asked the other three soldiers. "There is no way these huge desks are going to fit up these stairs, did any one of you try lifting one of those desks?"
"They are heavy!" One of the privates replied and took off his camouflage cap.
"It will take at least three of us to carry the desk up the stairs," Private Burrows tried to envision how such a task would work, "one pulling and two pushing."
"That could work!" another Private said and pulled the sleeves up revealing his tiny arms.
Private Burrows visualized the young private with his tiny arms attempting to lift the elephant sized desk up the stairs. She looked down at her own small pencil like arms and had serious doubts about their personal safety.
She couldn't help but imagine what a disaster this would turn into.
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"For the love of all that is Holy keep pushing!" Private Burrows yells from the top of the steps pulling the awkward sized thing.
"I can't, my arms hurt!" The weak private no older than 19 years old yells out.
"Think of your family at home!" Private Burrows yells out, "if not for yourself do it for them! Can little Billy live without a dad?"
"Who is little Billy?" sweat rolls down his forehead as he tries to lift and push the desk an inch closer to half way up the first stair case to the second floor, "I don't have any kids."
"Do it for freedom and for your country. Hooah!" The other Private said to Private Skinny Arms imitating their red headed leader SPC Dick Muffin.
"Yes Sir! SPC Tool Bag!" Private Skinny Arms began to laugh while releasing his grip from the massive obnoxiously huge desks.
In an instant the desk fell backwards like a run-away steam engine ready to crush anyone in its way, unfortunately Private Skinny Arms sustained most the force, crushing his small bones, every single one of them.
'How would I ever tell the family?' Private Burrows thought and snapped back into reality, which was....nobody is hurt yet... she had to come up with a plan to succeed the most difficult physical task assigned to her during her first week of training at the Defense Language Institute in Montery, California.
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The group of young soldiers entered the classrooms and began to remove the desks from the inside and into the hallways.
"I have an idea!" Private Burrows picked up one of the desks and turned it upside down.
"Turn it upside down?" Private Skinny Arms asked.
Private Burrows slid the desk across the floor. "You ever slide down the stairs on your knees?"
"With or without carpet?" the other Private with a smirk.
"You idiot!" Private Skinny Arms punched the other private on the arm and laughed, "carpet of course!"
"Ouch!" the Private grabbed his upper arm massaging out the pain caused by Skinny Arms. "Are we going to slide down the stairs on our knees?"
"No, we are going to slide the desks down the stairs," Private Burrows replied with a mischievous grin, "thereby accomplishing the task faster."
The Privates lined up the desks in a line and one by one slid the desks down the stairs of each floor. Private Burrows on the fourth floor sliding one desk down to Private Skinny Arms on the third floor who then slid it to the remaining Private on the second floor. The noise the desks made crashing against the walls of the stairway was insurmountably the loudest noise on base.
It only took 15 minutes to transport all the desks from the fourth floor to the second floor. They felt much accomplished and Private Burrows felt an overwhelming confidence that she had indeed overcome such a task in record time.
"Alright," Private Burrows motioned for her fellow soldiers to gather round, "that was fast, now all we have is one floor left, let's get this done before they see us being so reckless with government property."
"I am not sure how anyone walking by this vicinity would not be able to hear that awful noise of a desk going down the stairs and then crashing into the wall," Private Skinny Arms points out feeling a little uneasy about the whole situation, "let alone hundreds of desks."
"That is the point," Private Burrows pointed out and pushed a desk down the stairs to the first floor, "let's get it done fast before they notice the noise and come to investigate."
Not much time passed and the Privates slid their way past being noticed, literally. The adrenaline pumping through their young veins gave them energy enough to feel that they could carry the giant brand new desks from the Container and into the School, even the fourth floor seemed plausible.
"Okay same, concept, except reverse," Private Burrows walked toward the container and up the ramp, "we will slide these up the stairs instead of lifting them."
"Won't it scratch the surface of the brand new government issued desks?" Private Skinny Arms asked.
"Maybe a little," Private Burrows measured the consequences of such an action, "but I personally don't want that huge desk falling on either one of you breaking your heads, help me pick this up and turn it upside down."
"You got it," one of the Private answers and helps left the desk, "we need more help, what does this thing weigh?"
Private Burrows wondered if the officers who had ordered the desks chose the heaviest and biggest desks to torture the young soldiers forced to carry them up stairs into the classrooms. Sometimes Private Burrows thought these same officers spent their entire Army days between naps and coffee breaks coming up with ways they can make everyone's enlisted life more difficult.
"The hardest part will be flipping them over," Private Burrows encouraged her Privates under her delegated authority.
Once they had gotten one desk flipped over carried to the stair case, they proceeded to lay the desk on the stairs where it sat at a 45 degree angle.
"Okay," Private Burrows stepped out of the stairwell, "you two push it up, but do it as fast as you can to gain momentum, the minute you stop the harder it will be."
"Ahhhh!" one of the Private yells out, "you know a thing or two about physics!"
"One, Two," the two Privates grasps the desks preparing for an uphill run. "Three!"
They go running up the stairs, the desk successfully relocated within two minutes.
"Is it scratched!?" Private Burrows asks the Privates panting from the intense climb of their life.
"Let's see," They flip the desk on its side and examine the surface, "Negative!"
Private Burrows felt much relief and accomplishment, 'work smarter not harder,' she thought.
"What in Sam Hill is going on here!?" a loud voice echoes through the empty hallways.
The hair stood up on the heads of all three of the soldiers and they knew this wasn't good. They were stunned unable to speak as they saw a figure of a man walking toward them.
"We are moving desks sir," Private Burrows says with a tremble in her voice, "we are on the detail to move these desks inside the classrooms."
"Not like that you aren't!!" The officer's rank began to shine as he approached the Privates, this must have been the LT himself.
"Sir, we are not strong enough to conceivably perform the task by carrying these desks up the stairs without risking injury," Private Burrows tried to sound convincing hoping but not remembering if the other two Privates had their sleeves rolled up exposing their bony arms.
"So what you are trying to tell me PRIVATE," the LT gave the Privates the worst look they had ever seen, "is that you are not STRONG enough?"
"Yes, Sir," Private Burrows answered knowing it was the true answer but not the correct answer. She had never really completely conformed to the Army way of life of obeying and never asking questions, doing everything the conventional way, there was no room for creativity in the Armed Forces, no different answer then the one taught.
"Never accept defeat PRIVATES!" The LT screamed at the top of his longs chanting off some Army Value they had been forced to learn.
Private Burrows wondered how performing a task in a way that reduces injury while at the same time got the job done was accepting defeat.
"So I want you to do this task the right way," the Privates exhaled in dread of having to lift the enormous and heavy desk up four flights of stairs, "the desks right side up, carrying them up the stairs one by one."
"I would like to see him do it," one of the Privates whispered.
"Who said that!!!??" The LT yelled out.
Everyone felt the blood rush to their heads and they knew things went from bad to worse.
"Well then," The LT's neck veins appeared distended from anger, "Since nobody claims it. You will all work all day and all night until this task is done!"
The LT began to walk away, "and your senior Specialist Dick Muffin will make sure you do it. You can thank your battle buddy!"
It was a long night and SPC Dick Muffin refused to help the soldiers, sweat poured from the poor soldiers bodies, saturating their BDUs and the Privates couldn't help but feel they were being punished for doing things a smarter way, different then the LT had wanted. There probably wasn't a scientist, engineer, physicists, or Doctor who would argue that it was indeed more intelligent and less of a risk for injury to do things the way they had been doing.
SPC Dick Muffin wasn't in agreement, "You Privates had to do things the stupid way instead of the Army way and now I am stuck here watching you when I could be out downtown drinking!"
'The Army Way," Private Burrows thought as she strained her broken muscles awkwardly pushing what seemed to be desks that got heavier and heavier as the night passed, 'Why is it the Army Way is always the most difficult way? Is the Navy Way any easier? Should I have joined the Air Force? I bet their way might be more user friendly and less straining.'
A part of Private Burrows wished that a desk would fall down the stairs breaking someone's leg and then they will understand the risk of doing things with what she perceived was the 'idiotic way' synonymous with 'Army way.' Perhaps then things would be different... 'maybe if enough people get injured doing things the 'Army Way' then we can start changing the way things are done.'
She didn't have such luck. They had performed a miracle and still managed to make it to Physical Training after a whole four hours of sleep.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SPC Dick Muffin sat comfortably in his chair resting his elbow on the fruits of their hard labor, their night of torture, the desk.
Private Burrows looked around the classroom and calculated that it had taken them 10 minutes to carry each of the desk upstairs and ripped at least five or six muscles a pieces forcing them to twist and rotate their body parts in unnatural positions as they did everything they could to move the beasts of academic necessity, and to move them 'the Army Way'.
Contempt was the word she felt for SPC Dick Muffin, the prior service guy who apparently thought he was better than everyone else. Private Burrows wondered how long it would take the others to realize how much of a prick he was.
Today was the first day of class, 'they will probably figure it out by the end of the week,' Private Burrows thought trying to focus on the dry erase board.
Mr. Kim wrote his name on the board.
"My a name is......a ...... Mr Kim," he was an older Korean man with a thick accent, "I.....uhhhhh.. will be your teacher.....uh...... type thing."
The image of Mr Miyagi creapt into Private Burrows' mind. 'Wax on wax off.'
"Uhhh.....Stand up....Er ro nay yo...." Mr Kim raised his arms, "uhhhhh.......Ka.....type thing."
All ten of us in an assorted type of uniform, Navy, Air force, Army and one Marine stared at each other with questioning eyes while we stood up from our chairs.
Curiosity filled their minds trying to interpret exactly what this man was wanting.
"Ka!" the old man commanded and started walking around the room, circles around us.
"He means 'Go!'" SPC Dick Muffin commanded in an arrogant tone. "Walk around the room!"
Everyone's eyes shifter to SPC Dick Muffin and they knew at that moment that he was indeed as his name implied a Dick Muffin. Nonetheless they all walked around the room.
"So! So! So! type thing...." Mr. Kim stopped and repeated, "So!"
"That must mean stop," the red headed Private First Classes said in a normal tone of voice.
They all stopped walking in circles and stared at their new teacher.
"Ahn Ju Say yo!" Mr. Kim commanded in a soft tone of voice and sat down.
"Sit down," one female Specialist said trying to remember the Korean word for 'sit down.' "ahn ju say yo?" she repeated.
"Yes...uhhhh...Good good, you catching on," he said to the Specialist, who apparently had some college education coming into the army as a non private.
'No wonder she is so smart,' Private Burrows thought as she fought back the urge to close her eyes and take a one minute nap.
"I don't get it!" The short skinny Marine said in a loud tone of voice attempting to get the attention of the teacher, "you have us walk around in a circle and stop, then sit down...I mean what was the point of that?"
"Uhhhhh..." Mr. Kim looked confused and didn't understand the question. "I....uhhhh....teach you Korean...uhhhh....Han kook mal.."
"I understand you are the teacher," the Marine readjusts his uniform, "I just wanna know why you had us walk around the classroom several times, were we supposed to be counting, or switching seats?"
"No man!" the PFC began to laugh a little, "he is giving us commands in Korean and we are supposed to be learning them and doing the commands."
"Well, why doesn't he just tell them to us in English?" the Marine replied, "I was so confused I thought we were switching seats."
Mr. Kim looked confused as if he didn't understand what the Marine was questioning and looked over at the female SPC for help.... "uh SPC McAtten, could you please...uh explain...u know?"
"He didn't tell us in English because we are learning Korean," SPC McAtten wondered what she had left her Pennsylvania town to engage in.
"Oh I get it now that you put it that way!" the Marine responded, "I thought he wanted to assign seats or something... I mean I am fine here where I am sitting. But I get it now, continue Mr. Kim." the marine motioned at Mr. Kim.
Private Burrows' mind wandered as she looked over the one Marine in class. She thought about the 'Army Way' and how much better it must be then the 'Marine Way', was it really true that they were all muscle and no brain? If that is true then this Marine must be the smartest Marine there is having been given the opportunity to come to this language school. Perhaps he was the only Marine with a brain.
That was the first day of school, the beginning of an adventure none of them will forget and friendships that shall remain unbroken.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Been a while.
"It has been a while," Sarah Conner yelled over the booming speakers to the woman who stole her heart four years prior.
"Yes," she said and turned to the bar tender, "I will have an apple martini."
"Make that two," Sarah Conner put two fingers up and took a seat next to Dr. Keira Grey, "I have always wanted to say that....you know 'make that two.'"
"I am sure you have had your practice you pequeño saltamontes," Keira said in her heavy accent.
"I am not even sure what that means," Sarah suspected it was not good and handed the bartender a twenty dollar bill, "keep the change sir."
"Thank you," he said and handed the women their drinks.
"It means I still like you anyway," Dr. Gray scooted her bar stool closer to Sarah Conner.
"Really?!" Sarah Conner was shocked and almost chocked on her drink. "Well let's go out sometime, I mean somewhere not so......."
"Crowded?" Keira smiled at Sarah and remembered the kiss they shared many years ago.
"Yeah, I want you to myself," Sarah Conner said with a nervous smile and finished her martini in one long sip, "I promise I won't bring anyone with me."
"You better not," she said and drank her martini, "Wanna dance?"
"Sure," Sarah Conner put the glass down and held onto Keira's hand, she wondered how long this time would last before she vanished again and more importantly will she ever be 'hers.'
Keira held Sarah close as Beyonce sang Sweet Dreams.
"You can be a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare.... either way I don't want to wake up from you..."
Sarah Conner couldn't help but feel that she was in limbo, so close to heaven, near to the woman she had always longed for and yet so far away at the same time.
It was only a matter of time and Keira would be gone... This was the nature of their relationship. The untouchable Dr. Gray.
Sarah wondered why she held on to her so tightly knowing that she would most likely dissipate into a memory, a real good memory.
The music stopped and everyone gathered around the stage at the corner of the bar. It was obvious that there was going to be a band.
"Come on," Sarah said and put her arm around Keira's waste, "let's see what it is."
"Okay, just a little while, then I want to leave and get ice cream out of the macheen," Keira said and reluctantly stepped toward the stage with 'her Sarah.' she thought.
Keira stepped back a little surprised that she just thought of Sarah Conner as 'her Sarah.'
"The macheen!" Sarah started laughing, "I love that accent of yours! So adorable!"
"It's a macheen!" Keira tried to say it correctly and only made Sarah laugh harder.
"Say it again," Sarah Conner smiled and laughed.
"No!" Keira pushed Sarah away and then pulled her back closer, "I try to speak without the accent but can't!"
"It is okay," Sarah smiled and found them folding chairs leaning on the wall. "Let's sit down."
Keira unfolded one of the chairs and sat down as some piano music started playing, a few notes at first, then the notes turned into the introduction of a song she was all too familiar with.
I Can't Make You Love Me...
A man grabbed the microphone and Sarah could hear some people whisper...'is that Adam Lambert?'
"This is a love song I enjoy," he sat up in a high bar stool with the microphone in hand as the piano player played the melody, "there is this unrequited love, that you are searching for and looking for, and...it eludes you and it escapes,"
Dr. Grey looked at Sarah, her thoughts racing so fast she couldn't even put them together.
"it hurts.." Adam Lambert paused and looked down at his feet bracing the bar stool. "especially if you are projecting it, you are putting out that you want that, you are like....." Adam looked at the audience and sighed.
Sarah's heart skipped a beat and she felt a knot in her throat as Keira squeezed her hand.
"This next song has to do with that feeling," Adam took a sip of bottled water, "feeling like you found somebody and... who is with you in your bed when you wake up, go to sleep...comes hangs out with you...to movies.. things like that. But the feelings aren't there. We have all had that. I mean Hello! We have had that it is a non intimate companionship and it is just a limbo and it hurts."
Adam Lambert started singing the lyrics to I Can't Make You Love Me.
Sarah looked over at Dr. Grey and saw tears well up in her eyes. So much to say, but too afraid to say it, Sarah rubbed Gray's arm with her fingertips. Keira pulled her in closer into an embrace, cheek to cheek.
"What is it about this song that makes you cry," Sarah whispered in Gray's ear as she caressed her back with her free hands.
"Because it is the first and only song I totally learn in English..." Keira whispered back.." and its true."
"Good reason, I suppose..." Sarah didn't know what to say, she wanted to hold Keira forever and never let go but was so afraid, feeling in limbo.
"Besides I have been in that situation so many times," Keira's voice was full of pain, "being one or the other, the unloved or one that cannot love...story of my life.." Keira exhaled slowly into Sarah's ear.
"I know how that feels," Sarah felt a deep understanding of the words of the song on an entirely new level, she had listened to it so many times but it did not register until now, "Is that why you are so untouchable?"
"Maybe....Sometimes I wonder if all people are made for love.." She whispered as Adam sang the song louder, "maybe not and I am one of those...Successful in everything but love..."
They both held each other in silence rocking slightly to the music listening to the words...
"You can't make your heart feel something it won't. Here in the dark....."
"I think at this moment I'm at ease with it. Other times I want to fall crazy in love .... oh well...."
"I want to thank all of you," Adam stood up, everyone clapped. He walked off the stage, his guest appearance to the local gay bar short but remembered.
"Thank you Adam, " the fabulous shimmered from head to toe Queen DJ stepped on stage looking around the audience, "I don't see one dry eye out there, how about grab your partner or friend, it is couples dance! Here is one for you all."
The DJ put on Collide by Howie Day. "Now all of you take that special someone, or one night stand..." a few gay man yelled out HAY!!! "onto the dance floor, here is your chance ladies and dikes." the drag queen DJ laughed.
Sarah stood up and looked down at the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her whole life, " You heard the man...."
"Don't you mean woman?" Keira laughed and grabbed Sarah's hand standing up.
"Oh yeah, I shall not insult her majesty the Queen of drag again," Sarah tried to imitate a british accent poorly. Keira gave her a look... "Okay I won't do that again."
Keira and Sarah melted into each others arms as the music played. It was as if they shared one heart, beating in unison.
The music played as they held each other close, close enough to feel each other breath.
"Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind
I somehow find you and I collide
I'm quiet you know
You make a first impression
I've found I'm scared to know
I'm always on your mind"
"I get fixated," Sarah held Keira closer and they swayed slightly to the music, "You know when you know someone and you know if you step forward with that person you will fall crazy in love no doubt."
Keira looked into Sarah's eyes, her deep blue eyes searching for answers to the questions that had been plaguing her for years.
"Like you are on the edge of a cliff, and you know if you jump you will never be the same?" Sarah shook nervously and small tears glossed her eyes, she was afraid to be so close to Keira and even more afraid to lose her.
"With love I never know. I fall in love out of surprise.. I never know nothing.." Keira tried to explain what she thought was her failure at relationships.
"I have only loved a few times, but I have only felt what I just described to you once," Sarah tried to hide it but she could no longer hide it, she was surrendering to Keira.
"With who?" Keira asked already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from 'her Sarah's' lips.
"With you," Sarah let the words escape her lips, she was no longer in control, her heart was taking over.
"Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind
I somehow find you and I collide."
"I am still standing on the edge...." Sarah was surprised that she actually let that small amount of raw truth come out..
Keira Gray felt her heart palpitate and she lost her breathe, she looked deeply into Sarah's eyes and saw that she was telling the truth. This was the first time she had believed without a doubt that Sarah was waiting for her...
"Now Ya'll are too cute, especially you!!" The DJ interrupted and pointed to a shirtless muscle man in Levi jeans and a cowboy hat.. "Okay here is something a little more up beat but still in this couples theme," The DJ switched the music over to Halo by Beyonce, "Don't worry you singles, I will play you the next song!"
"This song is so cheesy," Sarah laughed, "but I like it."
"I have only heard it a few times.." Keira puts her arms around Sarah's neck letting her forearms rest on her shoulders and lost her hands in Sarah's long curly hair.
"Remember those walls I built, well baby they are tumbling down. And they didn't even put up a fight, they didn't even make a sound."
"I found a way to let you in. But I never really had a doubt. Standing in the light of your halo, I have my angel now."
"One of these days..." Keira whispered in Sarah's ear. "I am going to walk very silent so you don't notice me and going to push you from the fucking edge."
Sarah began to sweat and felt herself falling into Keira's heart. Stumbling over her own feet, she was not expecting such a response from the most gorgeous intelligent woman she had ever been out with.
"I want to jump," Sarah regained her composer and looked off the cliff in her mind, it was a long deep fall... this could hurt but it would be the most exhilarating experience of her life, "If you push me a little I will jump."
"You are everything I need and more, it's written all over your face, baby I can feel your halo..Pray it won't fade away, " Sarah sang along with Beyonce not sure what to say after putting herself out there.
"Be sure to grab me when I push you so we can fall together," Keira laughed at the analogy.
"Stand close enough so I can grab you when you fall," Sarah laughed with Keira.
To be continued!!!
"Yes," she said and turned to the bar tender, "I will have an apple martini."
"Make that two," Sarah Conner put two fingers up and took a seat next to Dr. Keira Grey, "I have always wanted to say that....you know 'make that two.'"
"I am sure you have had your practice you pequeño saltamontes," Keira said in her heavy accent.
"I am not even sure what that means," Sarah suspected it was not good and handed the bartender a twenty dollar bill, "keep the change sir."
"Thank you," he said and handed the women their drinks.
"It means I still like you anyway," Dr. Gray scooted her bar stool closer to Sarah Conner.
"Really?!" Sarah Conner was shocked and almost chocked on her drink. "Well let's go out sometime, I mean somewhere not so......."
"Crowded?" Keira smiled at Sarah and remembered the kiss they shared many years ago.
"Yeah, I want you to myself," Sarah Conner said with a nervous smile and finished her martini in one long sip, "I promise I won't bring anyone with me."
"You better not," she said and drank her martini, "Wanna dance?"
"Sure," Sarah Conner put the glass down and held onto Keira's hand, she wondered how long this time would last before she vanished again and more importantly will she ever be 'hers.'
Keira held Sarah close as Beyonce sang Sweet Dreams.
"You can be a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare.... either way I don't want to wake up from you..."
Sarah Conner couldn't help but feel that she was in limbo, so close to heaven, near to the woman she had always longed for and yet so far away at the same time.
It was only a matter of time and Keira would be gone... This was the nature of their relationship. The untouchable Dr. Gray.
Sarah wondered why she held on to her so tightly knowing that she would most likely dissipate into a memory, a real good memory.
The music stopped and everyone gathered around the stage at the corner of the bar. It was obvious that there was going to be a band.
"Come on," Sarah said and put her arm around Keira's waste, "let's see what it is."
"Okay, just a little while, then I want to leave and get ice cream out of the macheen," Keira said and reluctantly stepped toward the stage with 'her Sarah.' she thought.
Keira stepped back a little surprised that she just thought of Sarah Conner as 'her Sarah.'
"The macheen!" Sarah started laughing, "I love that accent of yours! So adorable!"
"It's a macheen!" Keira tried to say it correctly and only made Sarah laugh harder.
"Say it again," Sarah Conner smiled and laughed.
"No!" Keira pushed Sarah away and then pulled her back closer, "I try to speak without the accent but can't!"
"It is okay," Sarah smiled and found them folding chairs leaning on the wall. "Let's sit down."
Keira unfolded one of the chairs and sat down as some piano music started playing, a few notes at first, then the notes turned into the introduction of a song she was all too familiar with.
I Can't Make You Love Me...
A man grabbed the microphone and Sarah could hear some people whisper...'is that Adam Lambert?'
"This is a love song I enjoy," he sat up in a high bar stool with the microphone in hand as the piano player played the melody, "there is this unrequited love, that you are searching for and looking for, and...it eludes you and it escapes,"
Dr. Grey looked at Sarah, her thoughts racing so fast she couldn't even put them together.
"it hurts.." Adam Lambert paused and looked down at his feet bracing the bar stool. "especially if you are projecting it, you are putting out that you want that, you are like....." Adam looked at the audience and sighed.
Sarah's heart skipped a beat and she felt a knot in her throat as Keira squeezed her hand.
"This next song has to do with that feeling," Adam took a sip of bottled water, "feeling like you found somebody and... who is with you in your bed when you wake up, go to sleep...comes hangs out with you...to movies.. things like that. But the feelings aren't there. We have all had that. I mean Hello! We have had that it is a non intimate companionship and it is just a limbo and it hurts."
Adam Lambert started singing the lyrics to I Can't Make You Love Me.
Sarah looked over at Dr. Grey and saw tears well up in her eyes. So much to say, but too afraid to say it, Sarah rubbed Gray's arm with her fingertips. Keira pulled her in closer into an embrace, cheek to cheek.
"What is it about this song that makes you cry," Sarah whispered in Gray's ear as she caressed her back with her free hands.
"Because it is the first and only song I totally learn in English..." Keira whispered back.." and its true."
"Good reason, I suppose..." Sarah didn't know what to say, she wanted to hold Keira forever and never let go but was so afraid, feeling in limbo.
"Besides I have been in that situation so many times," Keira's voice was full of pain, "being one or the other, the unloved or one that cannot love...story of my life.." Keira exhaled slowly into Sarah's ear.
"I know how that feels," Sarah felt a deep understanding of the words of the song on an entirely new level, she had listened to it so many times but it did not register until now, "Is that why you are so untouchable?"
"Maybe....Sometimes I wonder if all people are made for love.." She whispered as Adam sang the song louder, "maybe not and I am one of those...Successful in everything but love..."
They both held each other in silence rocking slightly to the music listening to the words...
"You can't make your heart feel something it won't. Here in the dark....."
"I think at this moment I'm at ease with it. Other times I want to fall crazy in love .... oh well...."
"I want to thank all of you," Adam stood up, everyone clapped. He walked off the stage, his guest appearance to the local gay bar short but remembered.
"Thank you Adam, " the fabulous shimmered from head to toe Queen DJ stepped on stage looking around the audience, "I don't see one dry eye out there, how about grab your partner or friend, it is couples dance! Here is one for you all."
The DJ put on Collide by Howie Day. "Now all of you take that special someone, or one night stand..." a few gay man yelled out HAY!!! "onto the dance floor, here is your chance ladies and dikes." the drag queen DJ laughed.
Sarah stood up and looked down at the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her whole life, " You heard the man...."
"Don't you mean woman?" Keira laughed and grabbed Sarah's hand standing up.
"Oh yeah, I shall not insult her majesty the Queen of drag again," Sarah tried to imitate a british accent poorly. Keira gave her a look... "Okay I won't do that again."
Keira and Sarah melted into each others arms as the music played. It was as if they shared one heart, beating in unison.
The music played as they held each other close, close enough to feel each other breath.
"Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind
I somehow find you and I collide
I'm quiet you know
You make a first impression
I've found I'm scared to know
I'm always on your mind"
"I get fixated," Sarah held Keira closer and they swayed slightly to the music, "You know when you know someone and you know if you step forward with that person you will fall crazy in love no doubt."
Keira looked into Sarah's eyes, her deep blue eyes searching for answers to the questions that had been plaguing her for years.
"Like you are on the edge of a cliff, and you know if you jump you will never be the same?" Sarah shook nervously and small tears glossed her eyes, she was afraid to be so close to Keira and even more afraid to lose her.
"With love I never know. I fall in love out of surprise.. I never know nothing.." Keira tried to explain what she thought was her failure at relationships.
"I have only loved a few times, but I have only felt what I just described to you once," Sarah tried to hide it but she could no longer hide it, she was surrendering to Keira.
"With who?" Keira asked already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from 'her Sarah's' lips.
"With you," Sarah let the words escape her lips, she was no longer in control, her heart was taking over.
"Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind
I somehow find you and I collide."
"I am still standing on the edge...." Sarah was surprised that she actually let that small amount of raw truth come out..
Keira Gray felt her heart palpitate and she lost her breathe, she looked deeply into Sarah's eyes and saw that she was telling the truth. This was the first time she had believed without a doubt that Sarah was waiting for her...
"Now Ya'll are too cute, especially you!!" The DJ interrupted and pointed to a shirtless muscle man in Levi jeans and a cowboy hat.. "Okay here is something a little more up beat but still in this couples theme," The DJ switched the music over to Halo by Beyonce, "Don't worry you singles, I will play you the next song!"
"This song is so cheesy," Sarah laughed, "but I like it."
"I have only heard it a few times.." Keira puts her arms around Sarah's neck letting her forearms rest on her shoulders and lost her hands in Sarah's long curly hair.
"Remember those walls I built, well baby they are tumbling down. And they didn't even put up a fight, they didn't even make a sound."
"I found a way to let you in. But I never really had a doubt. Standing in the light of your halo, I have my angel now."
"One of these days..." Keira whispered in Sarah's ear. "I am going to walk very silent so you don't notice me and going to push you from the fucking edge."
Sarah began to sweat and felt herself falling into Keira's heart. Stumbling over her own feet, she was not expecting such a response from the most gorgeous intelligent woman she had ever been out with.
"I want to jump," Sarah regained her composer and looked off the cliff in her mind, it was a long deep fall... this could hurt but it would be the most exhilarating experience of her life, "If you push me a little I will jump."
"You are everything I need and more, it's written all over your face, baby I can feel your halo..Pray it won't fade away, " Sarah sang along with Beyonce not sure what to say after putting herself out there.
"Be sure to grab me when I push you so we can fall together," Keira laughed at the analogy.
"Stand close enough so I can grab you when you fall," Sarah laughed with Keira.
To be continued!!!
Monday, March 8, 2010
What In Gay Hell?
What in gay Hell??
I am convinced that I have reached my peak of worst dates. The worst date o'meter has spiked to its highest reading possible and nothing shall ever compare or match up to it ever again for at least three generations, my daughter, her daughter and her daughter's daughter.
So I am not sure why but I still have a myspace account AND about 80 people a week view my blog, apparently my life is entertaining. One of those people, we shall call Shayne (because she looks like Kate Moaning, the actress who plays Shayne in The L Word....I kid you not!) I have always found Shayne curiously hot in the show so was not opposed when her look alike asked me out on a date.
About an hour before I was supposed to pick up Shayne she write me a text message saying that she has no money and was embarrassed. I told her it was no problem and I would pay for dinner after which we would share a bottle of wine at my apartment.
No money...... Shayne is broke..... I can handle that..
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In a distant place in my subconscious a small snowball is formed and placed on the top of a massive hill unbeknown to the rest of my mind also known as the consciousness that lies at the bottom of the hill. My consciousness set up in organized houses and streets, a network of order and laws. Everything in my world that made sense, everything I understood about myself lined the streets of the small town. A utopia.
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I drove to her house to pick her up.... "Where are you?" I asked her through the cell phone.
"I am outside.." she said.
"All I see is a fat man next to a white truck," I said looking around.
"That is me!" She yelled into the phone.
I prayed that the figure of what I thought was a man would walk in the other direction and a hot girl would emerge from the bushes laughing and joking "haha, got you!! You really thought that was me??!! Who do you think I am? I really had you going, that is my brother!"
I was not that lucky, my eyes watered when I realized this wasn't a joke. There was no Kate Moaning, girl of my dreams in the bushes ready to jump out and make fun of my gullibility, that indeed this person was my date.
My date is fat..... Fat Shayne....
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A strong wind blew in my subconscious. The snowball on the top of the hill in that distant place began to budge from its stand still position safely on top of the massive hill of what is unknown to me. The people of the small valley town in my head residing in the known world of my private universe cried out together in unison, "No!!"
"Now you all stop!!" The mayor of the small town yells out over a microphone. "Let's not be shallow!!"
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I will get to know her....Maybe Fat Shayne has a personality that will make her hot..
It happens right??
So we drove to Casa Rio and sat down at a booth. I enjoyed her company and sense of humor. She seemed really cool. She told me that she had gained all the weight after quitting Crystal Meth and was losing weight.
"I work out probably twelve hours a day and lose 22 pounds a weeks," she says trying her best to reassure me that her obesity was merely a phase. "I plan on joining the Navy in March in fact."
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"See she isn't so bad," the mayor of the town in my mind tells the residents over a loud speaker.
The residents exhale in relief and continue in their organized patterns of maintaining and improving the town of my mind now strung with christmas lights and snow men. A perfect little christmas paradise.
Meanwhile, in the gay mecca, a small suburb of my mind's town a group of homosexuals are putting up their christmas lights for they so love christmas, especially since the traditional christmas lights are representing the glorious rainbow colors. An array of fabulous making them a unique part of the town.
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I was satisfied with the excuse and reassured myself that if she was only thin she would be super hot. Her face was still unquestionably gorgeous, there was no doubt about that. I wondered to myself "Does she know how much she looks like my favorite character on the L Word?" I wondered if she got told that a lot.
After dinner Fat Shayne asked me if I would take her to CVC Pharmacy. I did not think this request odd so drove straight there.
I turned the car off and opened the door..
"Wait, there is no reason for us both to go in," Shayne said, "I will be right back."
While I waited in the car I wondered what she was doing, why the pharmacy. I waited only a few seconds and she came out...
With nothing but free samples of men's cologne.
"I like this cologne, and wanted you to have something to remember me by," she said spraying it all over my car.
I did not like the smell of men's cologne.
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The snowball on top of the hill above the town began to roll down the hill and within seconds it was twice as big as before... Velocity was on its side.
In the gay mecca of the town a woman asks her girlfriend, "What is that smell?"
"It smells like men's cologne," the girlfriend replies and holds her nose.
"Is that sexy to wear men's cologne if you are a lesbian?" the woman asks her girlfriend.
"It is suppose to trigger women's pheromones," the girlfriend puts up Holly and Berries on the street lights.
"I don't think its working!" the woman says in disgust, "just smells like a butch woman trying to be a man again."
"Makes me sick," the girlfriend says and plugs her nose tighter. "Make it go away."
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I had expected Fat Shayne to come out with tampons, excedrin, or roses perhaps a romantic gesture for a girl who has nothing besides her gorgeous face going for her.
That would have been better... more acceptable...
So the girl likes cologne.....I guess I will put up with it tonight.....
You have now entered the point of no return Fat Shayne... Friendville. A place where people go who have no chance in hell of ever being in a relationship with me.
I decided a drink was in order and drove to my apartment.
As we were walking from the parking lot something fell from the inside of Fat Shayne's pant leg down to her shoes. She quickly leaned over.
"What was that?" I asked highly suspicious that whatever was tucked in her pants was stolen from CVC Pharmacy, thus the reason why she did not desire my company in the store.
"My cigarettes," she answered and pulled out a white box of Cold and Flu Medicine. She quickly tucked them away into her pocket.
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The snowball was now half way down the hill, big enough to be seen by the townspeople and it was heading straight for the gay mecca of my mind. A massive snowball rolling right toward the organized suburb of my gay mind. They were doomed.
The people in the adjacent suburbs watched the news from the safety of their homes.
"A giant snowball is headed straight for the gay mecca," the news reporter said.
"Meanwhile a woman is about to violate our town's strict 'no smoking' policy." The male newsreporter looks over at the female newsreporter "Sharon has more to follow. Are you there Sharon"
"Yes, Tim. It seems that not only is the woman a smoker but she also does what is far worse, shop lifts," the woman walks toward the CVC Pharmacy, "now here is where it happened ten minutes ago at this pharmacy."
"Do we know what she stole?" Tim asks through the headphones to Sharon.
"We suspect that it may be cold medicine Tim," Sharon says pressing on her earpiece.
"Our on sight witnesses are testifying that yes, it is indeed cold medicine. Tell us what you saw ma'am."
"Well, we haven't had any shoplifting here since the year of our lord 1999," the old woman clutches onto her Bible, "I was shocked when I saw the box of medicine fall out from her pants. I was truly disappointed in such dishonesty."
"Well, there you have it." Tim announces, "more to follow about the avalanche moving toward the gay district."
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At my apartment we shared a bottle of wine and some laughs. Although fat and a shoplifter, the girl was funny. I enjoyed hearing her talk and tell stories. I thought for sure if anything Fat Shayne could become a friend.
Everything was going to be okay despite it all. I have nothing to lose and only a friendship to gain right?
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The people in the gay district of my mind's civilization started packing their bags. They were certain for disaster. They listened to the radio and news waiting for any news regarding the Estimated Time of Arrival of the avalanche.
The lesbians packed their U Hauls up as quickly as possible and the gay men gathered all their precious costumes, makeup and designer clothes.
Armageddon was coming.
Or was it??
"News flash!" said the gayest most flamboyant man in the gay mecca over a large podium over looking the main street, "the avalanche has hit a patch of pine trees and has ceased from moving toward our district!"
Everyone cheered.
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It wasn't till 2 am that she left my apartment. Although it was nothing I expected, I felt pleased with the night. A new friend to hang out with.
I went to bed at peace with my new found friend. Fat Shayne.
In the morning. I woke up not realizing that this date, although seemed okay in the end was actually a ticking time bomb ready to explode. She was gone, what possibly could have made this date the worst date ever you might be thinking.
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The avalanche was no longer a threat to the townspeople, they went along their gay way of life. Organized, everything as it should be.
Little did they know that during the avalanche fiasco an outsider has planted a ticking time bomb within the walls of the city at the Cher Memorial.
Ticking away..... Five minutes left and it would explode destroying all of the brilliant glimmer and streamers of a suburb that is simply too gay.
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I did my usual as I did every morning and grabbed my brush from under my sink...
To my surprise was two empty boxes of cold and flu medicine.
I could hear the ticking of the time bomb in my mind...
My date was trippin on cold medicine the whole time, two boxes worth. I was very angry!
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At this point a bomb squad has discovered the time bomb at Cher's Memorial.
"There is no time Sargent!" One squad member yells to his Sargent.
"Should we cut the red or blue wire?" the Sargent asks the other member clutching onto small wire cutting scissors.
"I don't know!" the squad member cries out while the entire gay community watches anxiously hoping it does not go off.
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"That is fine," I thought to myself, "I just won't see her again."
No harm, no foul, it wasn't like she was a close friend or anything. I thought of how someday this would make a good story to tell. Perhaps I would tell my next girlfriend when we are comparing our bad date experiences.
I laughed to myself finding it almost amusing that I had no idea she was high the entire time. for sure, my next girlfriend would laugh with me about this. Of course I would win the world's worst date story.
Of course right.......
I was fine, unaware that the timb bomb was still ticking. I walked in my living room and began to clean.
I keep a clean apartment, very clean.
'Cleanliness is next to Godliness," I thought to myself and proceeded to wipe off all the surfaces of my apartment with lysol wipes. I sang as I worked to the songs of my ipod, my favorite song by Alejandro Saenz.
'Someday I will have a girlfriend that can appreciate the romantic tunes of this spanish version of Frank Sinatra,' I hoped to myself as I proceeded to clean the surfaces of my end tables.
BLOODY TAMPON!!!!!
There sitting before me, on my favorite magazine no less, was a vile bloody tampon. In my living room!!
I cried out in rage!
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"Cut the green wire!" the Sargent told the squad member.
BAM!!!! The entire gay mecca of my mind was shattered into a million of pieces.
What used to be a well organized thought out peaceful place was in flames.
Women and men were screaming and crying in horror. Especially the gay men. "I told you all pussy was gross and you didn't listen!! Now look what happened!!!"
U Hauls were blown into unrecognizable pieces, cats and dogs ran to freedom with no collars. It was every lesbians nightmare.
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I have heard of people crying when they are happy and angry, but have never experienced angry tears.
I was hysterical. I could not fathomably control myself, I was so angry and overcome with emotion that I cried out. Tears fell to the ground. Angry tears.
I have never been this angry before.....
"It must of happened while I was in the bathroom," I said to myself trying to recall events of the night. I cried harder, my face red with rage.
I couldn't think of any excuses to give her. I tried so hard to come up with some plausible explanation as to why someone would not only pull her tampon out in my living room but think it would be okay to set it down on my end table only to be discovered in the morning, a vile miserable pathetic piece of decaying menstruation.
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"Maybe it fell out," said a teenage girl to her best friend as she walked along the edge of the gay district now up in flames.
"Have you ever had a tampon just fall out?" the girl asked her friend while leaning over to pick up a piece of one of the gay flags blown apart.
"Nope, but it can happen right?" The girl tried to come up with a reasonable doubt as she watched the district destroy before her eyes.
"No it cannot!" A police officer approaches the young girls, "it is clearly an act of terror and will not be tolerated! Now you two off to your homes where it is safe. And stay away from anybody who appears to be fat and gay no matter how nice and funny they are."
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It took me two days to recover from that horrible date. The thought of the tampon haunted my mind.
I was traumatized.... hopefully not forever but indeed traumatized.
I imagined the tampon growing arms and legs and walking around my apartment, contaminating everything it touches. Sitting on my couch, eating my popcorn, smelling up my safe haven.
I felt violated.
As for the gay mecca in my mind... It might recover.
I have heard of people having trauma in their childhood that caused them to be gay, molestations, mistreatment, rape etc. I wondered if this kind of trauma could change me.
Can Someone be scared straight?
I seriously doubt it but you never know, anyone else experiencing this may have.
I am too super gay for that though, get back on the horse.
I am convinced that I have reached my peak of worst dates. The worst date o'meter has spiked to its highest reading possible and nothing shall ever compare or match up to it ever again for at least three generations, my daughter, her daughter and her daughter's daughter.
So I am not sure why but I still have a myspace account AND about 80 people a week view my blog, apparently my life is entertaining. One of those people, we shall call Shayne (because she looks like Kate Moaning, the actress who plays Shayne in The L Word....I kid you not!) I have always found Shayne curiously hot in the show so was not opposed when her look alike asked me out on a date.
About an hour before I was supposed to pick up Shayne she write me a text message saying that she has no money and was embarrassed. I told her it was no problem and I would pay for dinner after which we would share a bottle of wine at my apartment.
No money...... Shayne is broke..... I can handle that..
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In a distant place in my subconscious a small snowball is formed and placed on the top of a massive hill unbeknown to the rest of my mind also known as the consciousness that lies at the bottom of the hill. My consciousness set up in organized houses and streets, a network of order and laws. Everything in my world that made sense, everything I understood about myself lined the streets of the small town. A utopia.
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I drove to her house to pick her up.... "Where are you?" I asked her through the cell phone.
"I am outside.." she said.
"All I see is a fat man next to a white truck," I said looking around.
"That is me!" She yelled into the phone.
I prayed that the figure of what I thought was a man would walk in the other direction and a hot girl would emerge from the bushes laughing and joking "haha, got you!! You really thought that was me??!! Who do you think I am? I really had you going, that is my brother!"
I was not that lucky, my eyes watered when I realized this wasn't a joke. There was no Kate Moaning, girl of my dreams in the bushes ready to jump out and make fun of my gullibility, that indeed this person was my date.
My date is fat..... Fat Shayne....
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A strong wind blew in my subconscious. The snowball on the top of the hill in that distant place began to budge from its stand still position safely on top of the massive hill of what is unknown to me. The people of the small valley town in my head residing in the known world of my private universe cried out together in unison, "No!!"
"Now you all stop!!" The mayor of the small town yells out over a microphone. "Let's not be shallow!!"
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I will get to know her....Maybe Fat Shayne has a personality that will make her hot..
It happens right??
So we drove to Casa Rio and sat down at a booth. I enjoyed her company and sense of humor. She seemed really cool. She told me that she had gained all the weight after quitting Crystal Meth and was losing weight.
"I work out probably twelve hours a day and lose 22 pounds a weeks," she says trying her best to reassure me that her obesity was merely a phase. "I plan on joining the Navy in March in fact."
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"See she isn't so bad," the mayor of the town in my mind tells the residents over a loud speaker.
The residents exhale in relief and continue in their organized patterns of maintaining and improving the town of my mind now strung with christmas lights and snow men. A perfect little christmas paradise.
Meanwhile, in the gay mecca, a small suburb of my mind's town a group of homosexuals are putting up their christmas lights for they so love christmas, especially since the traditional christmas lights are representing the glorious rainbow colors. An array of fabulous making them a unique part of the town.
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I was satisfied with the excuse and reassured myself that if she was only thin she would be super hot. Her face was still unquestionably gorgeous, there was no doubt about that. I wondered to myself "Does she know how much she looks like my favorite character on the L Word?" I wondered if she got told that a lot.
After dinner Fat Shayne asked me if I would take her to CVC Pharmacy. I did not think this request odd so drove straight there.
I turned the car off and opened the door..
"Wait, there is no reason for us both to go in," Shayne said, "I will be right back."
While I waited in the car I wondered what she was doing, why the pharmacy. I waited only a few seconds and she came out...
With nothing but free samples of men's cologne.
"I like this cologne, and wanted you to have something to remember me by," she said spraying it all over my car.
I did not like the smell of men's cologne.
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The snowball on top of the hill above the town began to roll down the hill and within seconds it was twice as big as before... Velocity was on its side.
In the gay mecca of the town a woman asks her girlfriend, "What is that smell?"
"It smells like men's cologne," the girlfriend replies and holds her nose.
"Is that sexy to wear men's cologne if you are a lesbian?" the woman asks her girlfriend.
"It is suppose to trigger women's pheromones," the girlfriend puts up Holly and Berries on the street lights.
"I don't think its working!" the woman says in disgust, "just smells like a butch woman trying to be a man again."
"Makes me sick," the girlfriend says and plugs her nose tighter. "Make it go away."
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I had expected Fat Shayne to come out with tampons, excedrin, or roses perhaps a romantic gesture for a girl who has nothing besides her gorgeous face going for her.
That would have been better... more acceptable...
So the girl likes cologne.....I guess I will put up with it tonight.....
You have now entered the point of no return Fat Shayne... Friendville. A place where people go who have no chance in hell of ever being in a relationship with me.
I decided a drink was in order and drove to my apartment.
As we were walking from the parking lot something fell from the inside of Fat Shayne's pant leg down to her shoes. She quickly leaned over.
"What was that?" I asked highly suspicious that whatever was tucked in her pants was stolen from CVC Pharmacy, thus the reason why she did not desire my company in the store.
"My cigarettes," she answered and pulled out a white box of Cold and Flu Medicine. She quickly tucked them away into her pocket.
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The snowball was now half way down the hill, big enough to be seen by the townspeople and it was heading straight for the gay mecca of my mind. A massive snowball rolling right toward the organized suburb of my gay mind. They were doomed.
The people in the adjacent suburbs watched the news from the safety of their homes.
"A giant snowball is headed straight for the gay mecca," the news reporter said.
"Meanwhile a woman is about to violate our town's strict 'no smoking' policy." The male newsreporter looks over at the female newsreporter "Sharon has more to follow. Are you there Sharon"
"Yes, Tim. It seems that not only is the woman a smoker but she also does what is far worse, shop lifts," the woman walks toward the CVC Pharmacy, "now here is where it happened ten minutes ago at this pharmacy."
"Do we know what she stole?" Tim asks through the headphones to Sharon.
"We suspect that it may be cold medicine Tim," Sharon says pressing on her earpiece.
"Our on sight witnesses are testifying that yes, it is indeed cold medicine. Tell us what you saw ma'am."
"Well, we haven't had any shoplifting here since the year of our lord 1999," the old woman clutches onto her Bible, "I was shocked when I saw the box of medicine fall out from her pants. I was truly disappointed in such dishonesty."
"Well, there you have it." Tim announces, "more to follow about the avalanche moving toward the gay district."
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At my apartment we shared a bottle of wine and some laughs. Although fat and a shoplifter, the girl was funny. I enjoyed hearing her talk and tell stories. I thought for sure if anything Fat Shayne could become a friend.
Everything was going to be okay despite it all. I have nothing to lose and only a friendship to gain right?
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The people in the gay district of my mind's civilization started packing their bags. They were certain for disaster. They listened to the radio and news waiting for any news regarding the Estimated Time of Arrival of the avalanche.
The lesbians packed their U Hauls up as quickly as possible and the gay men gathered all their precious costumes, makeup and designer clothes.
Armageddon was coming.
Or was it??
"News flash!" said the gayest most flamboyant man in the gay mecca over a large podium over looking the main street, "the avalanche has hit a patch of pine trees and has ceased from moving toward our district!"
Everyone cheered.
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It wasn't till 2 am that she left my apartment. Although it was nothing I expected, I felt pleased with the night. A new friend to hang out with.
I went to bed at peace with my new found friend. Fat Shayne.
In the morning. I woke up not realizing that this date, although seemed okay in the end was actually a ticking time bomb ready to explode. She was gone, what possibly could have made this date the worst date ever you might be thinking.
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The avalanche was no longer a threat to the townspeople, they went along their gay way of life. Organized, everything as it should be.
Little did they know that during the avalanche fiasco an outsider has planted a ticking time bomb within the walls of the city at the Cher Memorial.
Ticking away..... Five minutes left and it would explode destroying all of the brilliant glimmer and streamers of a suburb that is simply too gay.
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I did my usual as I did every morning and grabbed my brush from under my sink...
To my surprise was two empty boxes of cold and flu medicine.
I could hear the ticking of the time bomb in my mind...
My date was trippin on cold medicine the whole time, two boxes worth. I was very angry!
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At this point a bomb squad has discovered the time bomb at Cher's Memorial.
"There is no time Sargent!" One squad member yells to his Sargent.
"Should we cut the red or blue wire?" the Sargent asks the other member clutching onto small wire cutting scissors.
"I don't know!" the squad member cries out while the entire gay community watches anxiously hoping it does not go off.
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"That is fine," I thought to myself, "I just won't see her again."
No harm, no foul, it wasn't like she was a close friend or anything. I thought of how someday this would make a good story to tell. Perhaps I would tell my next girlfriend when we are comparing our bad date experiences.
I laughed to myself finding it almost amusing that I had no idea she was high the entire time. for sure, my next girlfriend would laugh with me about this. Of course I would win the world's worst date story.
Of course right.......
I was fine, unaware that the timb bomb was still ticking. I walked in my living room and began to clean.
I keep a clean apartment, very clean.
'Cleanliness is next to Godliness," I thought to myself and proceeded to wipe off all the surfaces of my apartment with lysol wipes. I sang as I worked to the songs of my ipod, my favorite song by Alejandro Saenz.
'Someday I will have a girlfriend that can appreciate the romantic tunes of this spanish version of Frank Sinatra,' I hoped to myself as I proceeded to clean the surfaces of my end tables.
BLOODY TAMPON!!!!!
There sitting before me, on my favorite magazine no less, was a vile bloody tampon. In my living room!!
I cried out in rage!
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"Cut the green wire!" the Sargent told the squad member.
BAM!!!! The entire gay mecca of my mind was shattered into a million of pieces.
What used to be a well organized thought out peaceful place was in flames.
Women and men were screaming and crying in horror. Especially the gay men. "I told you all pussy was gross and you didn't listen!! Now look what happened!!!"
U Hauls were blown into unrecognizable pieces, cats and dogs ran to freedom with no collars. It was every lesbians nightmare.
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I have heard of people crying when they are happy and angry, but have never experienced angry tears.
I was hysterical. I could not fathomably control myself, I was so angry and overcome with emotion that I cried out. Tears fell to the ground. Angry tears.
I have never been this angry before.....
"It must of happened while I was in the bathroom," I said to myself trying to recall events of the night. I cried harder, my face red with rage.
I couldn't think of any excuses to give her. I tried so hard to come up with some plausible explanation as to why someone would not only pull her tampon out in my living room but think it would be okay to set it down on my end table only to be discovered in the morning, a vile miserable pathetic piece of decaying menstruation.
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"Maybe it fell out," said a teenage girl to her best friend as she walked along the edge of the gay district now up in flames.
"Have you ever had a tampon just fall out?" the girl asked her friend while leaning over to pick up a piece of one of the gay flags blown apart.
"Nope, but it can happen right?" The girl tried to come up with a reasonable doubt as she watched the district destroy before her eyes.
"No it cannot!" A police officer approaches the young girls, "it is clearly an act of terror and will not be tolerated! Now you two off to your homes where it is safe. And stay away from anybody who appears to be fat and gay no matter how nice and funny they are."
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It took me two days to recover from that horrible date. The thought of the tampon haunted my mind.
I was traumatized.... hopefully not forever but indeed traumatized.
I imagined the tampon growing arms and legs and walking around my apartment, contaminating everything it touches. Sitting on my couch, eating my popcorn, smelling up my safe haven.
I felt violated.
As for the gay mecca in my mind... It might recover.
I have heard of people having trauma in their childhood that caused them to be gay, molestations, mistreatment, rape etc. I wondered if this kind of trauma could change me.
Can Someone be scared straight?
I seriously doubt it but you never know, anyone else experiencing this may have.
I am too super gay for that though, get back on the horse.
Addicted To Love
Last night I couldn't sleep...
This isn't entirely abnormal for me, in addition the cramps ripping apart my uterus from within reminding me that it shall be hours before I fall asleep. I am a night person, ever since I started working the graveyard shift in the Emergency Room.
I did what any night person does... Play farmville, chat online with friends and watch late night television.
I watched a clip from Opera first. The episode was about women who were 'addicted to love.'
'Love addiction?' I asked myself and put the remote down. Usually Opera's talk show bored me, it used to be good ten years ago, but lately I haven't been able to sit through ten minutes of one of her shows. No wonder this next season would be her last...
I listened in some more about 'love addiction', there were four women sitting in a semi circle with Oprah at the end.
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"I just remember being so depressed waiting by the phone," one beautiful blond woman told Opera, "he never called, and every minute I was left alone without him felt like torture."
"So, did you ever call him?" Opera asked looking at the blond woman and then at the camera.
"Yes, once or twice," the woman responded, "I tried not to call too much because I didn't want to appear desperate, and besides we had just broken up, I am sure he just needed space."
"And did he answer?" Opera crossed her legs.
"No, I had to leave a message both times," the blond woman answered, "even after calling him, I thought about calling him again, I was obsessed, constantly wondering what he was doing, where he was, who he was with and if he thought about me."
"You say you were obsessed?" Opera points out.
"Yes, I went to see a Psychologist for it," the woman smiles, "and the psychologist said that I had an addiction, a love addiction."
"Here we have a psychologist, Dr. Sandra Collins, with us," Opera introduces the other woman sitting next to the love addicted blond woman. The audience claps.
"Thanks for inviting me Opera," Dr. Collins smiles, the clapping dies down.
"Now, we have all been through heartbreak," Opera says matter-of-factly, "I know I have, the constant thinking and wondering..'what is he up to, does he feel the same way....etc'. Now when is that considered to be a love 'addiction.'"
"Well, Opera. A small degree of heartbreak is natural for anyone," the Dr. in Psychology adjusts her glasses frame, "but when you take it so far that you find no relief in diversionary activities, reading, being with friends and it supersedes your self worth to the point where you lay all the stock you have in yourself on your partner, husband or ex, then it becomes a love addiction. Also might I add, when you constantly obsessing about that one other person, more and for a longer period of time then normal."
"You say normal," Opera points out, "now what is considered normal?"
"Well, it varies from person to person." Dr. Sandra Collins looks at Opera, "it might take days, months and years to get over someone who was significant in your life, someone you love."
"Might I add something," the blond woman interrupted and put one finger up, "when I was going through this grieving process, feeling that sense of loss where I came to realize, 'yes, he did dump me and it is over,' I got to a point where I didn't get out of bed, stopped showering daily, showing up late to work, not being able to sleep at night, he was just constantly on my mind, I was consumed. I literally waited by the phone all day for a phone call from him."
"Now, that is a perfect example of a maladaptive way of dealing with this love addiction," the Dr. in Psychology pointed out, "other ways is going out on several dates, desperately trying to fill that void with another person, some people start kissing and sleeping around with the first available date that comes around."
"So it is kind of like a drug addict looking for a fix?" Opera straightened her shirt and sat up straighter in the chair.
"Exactly!" Dr. Collins says in a loud voice, "these women's self worth is measured by feeling they are loved and wanted by another person, they are addicted in a sense."
"So how does a woman break free from this love addiction?" Opera asks the Dr. in Psychology.
"She needs to learn to love herself, bottom line," Dr. Collins said and lifted up her book, "I wrote this book called 'The Reversal Agent to Love Addiction: A Guide to Loving Yourself'."
"Yes, I have read it myself and find some interesting points," Opera holds up the book, "so I am giving a copy to everyone in the audience today."
Everyone in the Audience cheered.
(it was late at night when i watched this so it may not be exactly the way I saw it)
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So there I was sitting on my couch thinking about 'love addiction.'
I would be lying if I said I have never been there. I have been through some rough breakups. One of the worst was in Puerto Rico where I was living with my girlfriend. She broke up with me and I was left alone. I was shattered and dealt with it in a very maladaptive way for almost a year straight.
I have to admit, I went out with several girls and even dated a guy, which is so unlike me. I needed someone to fill the emptiness that consumed me. On top of that I made every excuse I could to talk to my ex or see her. She was constantly on my mind, I was obsessed with the idea of 'winning her back.'
It never happened. But after a year, I got over it and made friends. Developed self esteem and self confidence. I did not need her or anyone to make me feel whole.
I started to love myself and it has cured me of this love addiction.
I have been through two break ups since then and have felt the same way, love for myself superseding feelings of loss.
I am okay, I am fine, I am lovable, and I am good.
Of course, I still have that desire to find someone to be with and hopefully make a life with, have that fairytale ending I so desire. But I don't put this desire above my self worth.
I believe in order to truly love someone else, you must first love yourself.
If you truly love yourself, you have respect for yourself. You don't allow yourself to become loose, going out with just anybody with a pulse, 98.7 degrees whose heart beats and lungs breath air who will keep you warm at night.
When you love and respect yourself you know what you deserve. You wait for the best and you do not settle for less.
You are not a one night stand when you love and respect yourself.
This isn't entirely abnormal for me, in addition the cramps ripping apart my uterus from within reminding me that it shall be hours before I fall asleep. I am a night person, ever since I started working the graveyard shift in the Emergency Room.
I did what any night person does... Play farmville, chat online with friends and watch late night television.
I watched a clip from Opera first. The episode was about women who were 'addicted to love.'
'Love addiction?' I asked myself and put the remote down. Usually Opera's talk show bored me, it used to be good ten years ago, but lately I haven't been able to sit through ten minutes of one of her shows. No wonder this next season would be her last...
I listened in some more about 'love addiction', there were four women sitting in a semi circle with Oprah at the end.
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"I just remember being so depressed waiting by the phone," one beautiful blond woman told Opera, "he never called, and every minute I was left alone without him felt like torture."
"So, did you ever call him?" Opera asked looking at the blond woman and then at the camera.
"Yes, once or twice," the woman responded, "I tried not to call too much because I didn't want to appear desperate, and besides we had just broken up, I am sure he just needed space."
"And did he answer?" Opera crossed her legs.
"No, I had to leave a message both times," the blond woman answered, "even after calling him, I thought about calling him again, I was obsessed, constantly wondering what he was doing, where he was, who he was with and if he thought about me."
"You say you were obsessed?" Opera points out.
"Yes, I went to see a Psychologist for it," the woman smiles, "and the psychologist said that I had an addiction, a love addiction."
"Here we have a psychologist, Dr. Sandra Collins, with us," Opera introduces the other woman sitting next to the love addicted blond woman. The audience claps.
"Thanks for inviting me Opera," Dr. Collins smiles, the clapping dies down.
"Now, we have all been through heartbreak," Opera says matter-of-factly, "I know I have, the constant thinking and wondering..'what is he up to, does he feel the same way....etc'. Now when is that considered to be a love 'addiction.'"
"Well, Opera. A small degree of heartbreak is natural for anyone," the Dr. in Psychology adjusts her glasses frame, "but when you take it so far that you find no relief in diversionary activities, reading, being with friends and it supersedes your self worth to the point where you lay all the stock you have in yourself on your partner, husband or ex, then it becomes a love addiction. Also might I add, when you constantly obsessing about that one other person, more and for a longer period of time then normal."
"You say normal," Opera points out, "now what is considered normal?"
"Well, it varies from person to person." Dr. Sandra Collins looks at Opera, "it might take days, months and years to get over someone who was significant in your life, someone you love."
"Might I add something," the blond woman interrupted and put one finger up, "when I was going through this grieving process, feeling that sense of loss where I came to realize, 'yes, he did dump me and it is over,' I got to a point where I didn't get out of bed, stopped showering daily, showing up late to work, not being able to sleep at night, he was just constantly on my mind, I was consumed. I literally waited by the phone all day for a phone call from him."
"Now, that is a perfect example of a maladaptive way of dealing with this love addiction," the Dr. in Psychology pointed out, "other ways is going out on several dates, desperately trying to fill that void with another person, some people start kissing and sleeping around with the first available date that comes around."
"So it is kind of like a drug addict looking for a fix?" Opera straightened her shirt and sat up straighter in the chair.
"Exactly!" Dr. Collins says in a loud voice, "these women's self worth is measured by feeling they are loved and wanted by another person, they are addicted in a sense."
"So how does a woman break free from this love addiction?" Opera asks the Dr. in Psychology.
"She needs to learn to love herself, bottom line," Dr. Collins said and lifted up her book, "I wrote this book called 'The Reversal Agent to Love Addiction: A Guide to Loving Yourself'."
"Yes, I have read it myself and find some interesting points," Opera holds up the book, "so I am giving a copy to everyone in the audience today."
Everyone in the Audience cheered.
(it was late at night when i watched this so it may not be exactly the way I saw it)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So there I was sitting on my couch thinking about 'love addiction.'
I would be lying if I said I have never been there. I have been through some rough breakups. One of the worst was in Puerto Rico where I was living with my girlfriend. She broke up with me and I was left alone. I was shattered and dealt with it in a very maladaptive way for almost a year straight.
I have to admit, I went out with several girls and even dated a guy, which is so unlike me. I needed someone to fill the emptiness that consumed me. On top of that I made every excuse I could to talk to my ex or see her. She was constantly on my mind, I was obsessed with the idea of 'winning her back.'
It never happened. But after a year, I got over it and made friends. Developed self esteem and self confidence. I did not need her or anyone to make me feel whole.
I started to love myself and it has cured me of this love addiction.
I have been through two break ups since then and have felt the same way, love for myself superseding feelings of loss.
I am okay, I am fine, I am lovable, and I am good.
Of course, I still have that desire to find someone to be with and hopefully make a life with, have that fairytale ending I so desire. But I don't put this desire above my self worth.
I believe in order to truly love someone else, you must first love yourself.
If you truly love yourself, you have respect for yourself. You don't allow yourself to become loose, going out with just anybody with a pulse, 98.7 degrees whose heart beats and lungs breath air who will keep you warm at night.
When you love and respect yourself you know what you deserve. You wait for the best and you do not settle for less.
You are not a one night stand when you love and respect yourself.
Go! Halloween Night!
Halloween night and I am in Houston with my friends Princessa, her girlfriend Blondie and Adam Sandler.
I did not have a costume, unless you count the scarf that my sister made me. She sewed on scary green fingers on a scarf and sent it to me a few days prior. It's all I had, Adam and I had planned our Halloween costume for months and months, but time was not my friend. Working got the best of me and I didn't have time to go out looking for the appropriate attire.
We wanted to be the couple in the movie 51st dates. He was going to be the guy (Adam Sandler of course) and I was going to be Drew Barrymore, his girlfriend with a horrible short term memory.
But all I had was a scarf with fingers sewed on them, but it was more than enough for me. I don't really like dressing up anyway. And neither did any of the other lesbians that came out this night. We must of all got together and collectively decided not to go all out dressing up like then men.
Thank goodness for sisters making you stuff to wear on such an occasion...
Time to go out and see what the city has to offer.....
An entire street was closed off near the bars that lined the gay district of Houston. An entire street of drag queens, ghouls and goblins. It was a gay man's paradise. Halloween, a holiday they can dress as slutty or as diva beautiful as they want and get away with it.
Some of the gay men dressed the way they felt on the inside but had to hide from society....
Chocolate, a big black drag queen who is famous in this neck of Houston was once again the Diva of the night announcing costumes and acting as the group's voice on stage in the middle of the street. She is the "Rupaul" of the gay community in Houston.
Chocolate had a sweet tooth for all the masculine men in the city, especially my friend Adam who was straight, extremely so.
I wondered how the rest of the city must look upon this spectacle of gay men in drag or in thongs walking the streets holding hands and being fabulous, as they would say. 'Glitter and lipstick never hurt anybody,' one of the male divas told another male diva in drag.
Adam left to a friend's house that lived nearby to start drinking like a man who is extremely dehydrated and needed water. Party Boy needs some gas to start the cra
I did not have a costume, unless you count the scarf that my sister made me. She sewed on scary green fingers on a scarf and sent it to me a few days prior. It's all I had, Adam and I had planned our Halloween costume for months and months, but time was not my friend. Working got the best of me and I didn't have time to go out looking for the appropriate attire.
We wanted to be the couple in the movie 51st dates. He was going to be the guy (Adam Sandler of course) and I was going to be Drew Barrymore, his girlfriend with a horrible short term memory.
But all I had was a scarf with fingers sewed on them, but it was more than enough for me. I don't really like dressing up anyway. And neither did any of the other lesbians that came out this night. We must of all got together and collectively decided not to go all out dressing up like then men.
Thank goodness for sisters making you stuff to wear on such an occasion...
Time to go out and see what the city has to offer.....
An entire street was closed off near the bars that lined the gay district of Houston. An entire street of drag queens, ghouls and goblins. It was a gay man's paradise. Halloween, a holiday they can dress as slutty or as diva beautiful as they want and get away with it.
Some of the gay men dressed the way they felt on the inside but had to hide from society....
Chocolate, a big black drag queen who is famous in this neck of Houston was once again the Diva of the night announcing costumes and acting as the group's voice on stage in the middle of the street. She is the "Rupaul" of the gay community in Houston.
Chocolate had a sweet tooth for all the masculine men in the city, especially my friend Adam who was straight, extremely so.
I wondered how the rest of the city must look upon this spectacle of gay men in drag or in thongs walking the streets holding hands and being fabulous, as they would say. 'Glitter and lipstick never hurt anybody,' one of the male divas told another male diva in drag.
Adam left to a friend's house that lived nearby to start drinking like a man who is extremely dehydrated and needed water. Party Boy needs some gas to start the cra
Crack Doc
September 10, 2009
My friend Jason, who I also called the "Crack Doc", constantly would call me a player or a jedi player, saying I had the 'force'. He would be on his bar stool at his favorite beach bar on the coast of Puerto Rico drinking medalla, the Puerto Rican beer. I would sit down next to the 'Crack Doc'. Let it be known the reason I called him the Crack Doc, was because, as you can guess he spent all his money on crack. And he did crack in every country, sampling crack rocks of the world. Jason was free to go anywhere he wanted, being 100% disabled with his monthly disability coming into his bank account each and every month for the rest of his life so he could afford his cracked out world travels, this year was San Juan for him. When he first told me he was 100% disabled I was in complete shock, he looked completely fine to me, but his post traumatic stress from the Gulf War said differently. Perhaps this was the reason he was so hooked on crack now. Whatever the case, he had a major crush on the bar tender and came everyday to this beach side bar to enjoy her company.
Seems Precious right? It's not as cute as it sounds. The bartender was co-owner of the small outdoor beach bar. The other owner was her husband, a Vietnam war vet who had his legs blown off in the war leaving him in a wheel chair for the rest of his life. His only reason to live was his beautiful wife and business partner.
"You see Sarah," the Crack Doc whispered over to me while his bartender crush went to the other side of the bar to get him another drink, "her husband has no legs, so that gives me an advantage."
'Only the Crack Doc would be that low to steal a legless man's wife,' I thought to myself and reconsidered ever getting his advice. Which brings me to the other reason I call him 'Crack Doc.' At the time he was my 'go to guy' I would sit with him at his bar, spot on the beach, street side curb, and get advise and counseling from him, similar to what a Doctor in Psychology would provide, Except his advise was free!! But it is true, you do get what you pay for. Especially when I was getting insight from a guy that thinks its okay to take a disabled man's woman.
The Crack Doc observed my behavior and came up with this crazy theory that I was a female player and I had this force to get whatever girl I wanted, gay or straight. He would see me with a girl and smile his mischievous smile congratulating me on yet another girl. Little did he know not all the girls I hung out with wanted me, some just wanted to be friends. But in his crazy warped head I was out terrorizing the town one prospective beauty at a time. He couldn't have been further from the truth. While it was true I did date many women at this time, I was not intimate with most of them. I have always prided myself on being extremely selective. Does that make me a player? I think not. At any rate, he wanted me to teach him my ways.
But what are my ways? I have no ways. I am completely honest and out front with everyone I date. I don't know how to play games, so I don't play them. I don't have a master plan, it doesn't bother me if I don't get kissed on the first date. It doesn't hurt my pride when she stands me up (well except Dr. McDreamy standing me up kinda hurt but I'm over it). I have no expectations for anyone that goes out with me, and really honestly there isn't as many as the Crack Doc thought. The way I see it, you can go out and have a good time with many dates and never get physical or serious with them. Additionally, I have always valued friendship above everything else, I love to be best friends with my prospective girlfriend before I even reach intimacy.
So here I am a few years older. Sometimes I think of the Crack Doc and smile and wonder if others have the same misconception as he did about me. Particularly this week, I have been engaged in two conversations which ended with the said correspondent referring to me as a 'player.' Whenever I hear this word in my direction I cringe because nothing could be further from the truth. And on top of that I am not seeing anyone right now!! Calling me a player is like saying that Barbara Streisand is an African American, its just not true. Perhaps to the outsiders looking in it seems accurate, but to my closest friends nothing could be further from the truth. So just to clear things up with everyone, I am not nor have I ever been a player. I admit I have gone through phases but I remained genuine through every single one of them.
My friend Jason, who I also called the "Crack Doc", constantly would call me a player or a jedi player, saying I had the 'force'. He would be on his bar stool at his favorite beach bar on the coast of Puerto Rico drinking medalla, the Puerto Rican beer. I would sit down next to the 'Crack Doc'. Let it be known the reason I called him the Crack Doc, was because, as you can guess he spent all his money on crack. And he did crack in every country, sampling crack rocks of the world. Jason was free to go anywhere he wanted, being 100% disabled with his monthly disability coming into his bank account each and every month for the rest of his life so he could afford his cracked out world travels, this year was San Juan for him. When he first told me he was 100% disabled I was in complete shock, he looked completely fine to me, but his post traumatic stress from the Gulf War said differently. Perhaps this was the reason he was so hooked on crack now. Whatever the case, he had a major crush on the bar tender and came everyday to this beach side bar to enjoy her company.
Seems Precious right? It's not as cute as it sounds. The bartender was co-owner of the small outdoor beach bar. The other owner was her husband, a Vietnam war vet who had his legs blown off in the war leaving him in a wheel chair for the rest of his life. His only reason to live was his beautiful wife and business partner.
"You see Sarah," the Crack Doc whispered over to me while his bartender crush went to the other side of the bar to get him another drink, "her husband has no legs, so that gives me an advantage."
'Only the Crack Doc would be that low to steal a legless man's wife,' I thought to myself and reconsidered ever getting his advice. Which brings me to the other reason I call him 'Crack Doc.' At the time he was my 'go to guy' I would sit with him at his bar, spot on the beach, street side curb, and get advise and counseling from him, similar to what a Doctor in Psychology would provide, Except his advise was free!! But it is true, you do get what you pay for. Especially when I was getting insight from a guy that thinks its okay to take a disabled man's woman.
The Crack Doc observed my behavior and came up with this crazy theory that I was a female player and I had this force to get whatever girl I wanted, gay or straight. He would see me with a girl and smile his mischievous smile congratulating me on yet another girl. Little did he know not all the girls I hung out with wanted me, some just wanted to be friends. But in his crazy warped head I was out terrorizing the town one prospective beauty at a time. He couldn't have been further from the truth. While it was true I did date many women at this time, I was not intimate with most of them. I have always prided myself on being extremely selective. Does that make me a player? I think not. At any rate, he wanted me to teach him my ways.
But what are my ways? I have no ways. I am completely honest and out front with everyone I date. I don't know how to play games, so I don't play them. I don't have a master plan, it doesn't bother me if I don't get kissed on the first date. It doesn't hurt my pride when she stands me up (well except Dr. McDreamy standing me up kinda hurt but I'm over it). I have no expectations for anyone that goes out with me, and really honestly there isn't as many as the Crack Doc thought. The way I see it, you can go out and have a good time with many dates and never get physical or serious with them. Additionally, I have always valued friendship above everything else, I love to be best friends with my prospective girlfriend before I even reach intimacy.
So here I am a few years older. Sometimes I think of the Crack Doc and smile and wonder if others have the same misconception as he did about me. Particularly this week, I have been engaged in two conversations which ended with the said correspondent referring to me as a 'player.' Whenever I hear this word in my direction I cringe because nothing could be further from the truth. And on top of that I am not seeing anyone right now!! Calling me a player is like saying that Barbara Streisand is an African American, its just not true. Perhaps to the outsiders looking in it seems accurate, but to my closest friends nothing could be further from the truth. So just to clear things up with everyone, I am not nor have I ever been a player. I admit I have gone through phases but I remained genuine through every single one of them.
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