twenty-something

My old friend Meghan is back in town, after two years abroad in Thailand. Went out to dinner with her, another dear old friend, Kelly, and Duncan. And, guess what? It was awesome.

Yeah, its a little awkward reconnecting with a long-gone friend, but after that -- it was killer. It felt like old times a little, like college, browsing the cheap and tacky clothese at Old Navy. Going to Ben and Jerry's. Talking, laughing, yadda yadda. It was the same - but different enough to feel like it was something new. Renewed, I guess. A frien-esance, if you will. (Butchered that, sorry Pheobe.)

I'm still here -- in Burlington, and its nice, for once, to not feel like the only one. Meghan is back. Kelly's not far. And maybe, just maybe, I can convince them all to stay around for one more year. We can get a fun little apartment. And my last year in Burlington will kick lots of booty, Alias-style.

Oh yeah. Command decision: I am here for another year. Unless I get fired. Or have another breakdown. So you never know.

But I think that last year could be rockin'. I'm being social left and right here, and things are feeling a little better, on that front anyway. I'm looking forward to laid-back and fun summer. I'm hopeful that my life, and my return to Burlington will turn into something a little better than just an awesome job and a relationship.

Hope. Yeah.

So I turn 25 in 454 days, 4 hours, and 54 minutes... In that time, I not only need to get engaged, but married -- gay-married. Or so the plan I've had in my head for as long as I can remember dictates: married by 25, kids by 30. All my life, I've wanted to be normal -- to achieve that idyllic and very, very cliched white-picket crap that most of us buy into, the sort of life I never had when I was a kid. I think this was the biggest obsticle in conciously acknowledging my homosexuality for the first sixteen years, and caused some of the biggest internal struggles in accepting it. How could I be "normal" and be gay? How could I have a wife, kids, great job, success, that fucking fence -- if I was a deviant?

Well, I started looking around -- on the Internet when I was 16 -- for anything. And what I found were sketchy chatrooms, lots of porn -- and the homepage of one 32-year-old Australian doctor. He liked the same TV shows, movies, and music as I did -- he also happened to be gay, well-adjusted, and practically married to another man. He was a normal guy with a normal life. And that gave me hope.

It's funny, because up until almost exactly two years ago, I still bought into all that whole-heartedly. There were times, in the moment, during our relationship, that I thought Joe, my first serious boyfriend, could be "The One." That we'd get hitched -- Civil Unioned or whatnot -- adopt, live happily ever after -- just like our other couple friends. The slightly distorted mirror image of heterosexuality was sort of expected of us by others -- our friends and, to some extent, my family -- and so I guess we sort of fell into it. We were a cute couple and, at first, we had a picturesque, "perfect" relationship. But time, situations, graduations, and ACL surgeries complicated things a wee bit. We ended up on the tail end of one-year-and-three-months together both sort of hating each other. Forget gay-marriage -- we were practically gay-divorced.

But, I guess, even up to the day we broke up, I sort of bought into that idea that was forced on us by our liberal and supportive friends in BVT. PC terms like "partner." The go-to question -- "How's Joe?" -- which was like this conversation failsafe. Deeper questions about the relationship, the future, our plans... They forced it on me, but part of me was into it. Part of me sorta thought I might really marry Joe. And here's a confession: if we had made it to my senior year, part of me had it in my head that I'd buy a ring and propose right 'round my graduation day.

How the hell did I go from THAT to a quiet, closeted relationship with my current beau? I really don't know. Part of it is the "Golden Retriver" in me -- I got burned by the last one, and I wanted something completely different. But I think that was only a small part of my transformation between Joe and Duncan, my current beau.

I can speculate that I fell into this relationship and found what I needed -- and that didn't include showing off my new boyfriend, double-dating, or most of that horrid couples stuff. Because the relationship existed, especially at first, only behind closed doors, I learned that I could meet my needs and be happy, truly happy, without any of the trappings that they have always told me I need. Sure, it was (and is) hard to have a closeted relationship -- but its refreshing not to have family members always asking home my boyfriend is and wondering if we'll get a civil union -- and that's in large part because many don't know Duncan even exists.

But the topic of cohabitation has been breached. And it's opened some combination of Pandora's Box and Trojan Horse. I don't know what I want, but I think I know what he does -- or doesn't -- want, or isn't ready for. And maybe the fact that I can't have it, but some days, I think it's an awesome idea. I think about how easy things could be, how nice it would be to come home to him every night, how practical it would be to be "roommate" instead of just closeted lovers. But what the hell do I know? I don't know what I want or what I'm ready for in this moment I'm living in.

But I do want it, eventually, in some form. To live with somebody, to share my life. As a best friend -- but more. A companion. And that might not include coming up with new vows or creative solutions to the whole two dads thing. I'm pretty much resigned to the fact that I won't be married by 25, and that's OK. Because I don't really know what I want. Now. Tomorrow. Two years from now. Twenty. But I think it's somewhere between the two men I've loved.

I want love. I want my kind of love. And I'm starting to figure out that it's not going to be the kind of love that the straights want me to have, and it might not be the kind of love my supportive, liberal-ish friends and family want for me -- but it's going to be what's right for me and my man.

This is my relationship, and this is my terms. And, for now, it's good enough for me.

My life seems quite trivial as of late. Well, at least sometimes, when I reflect on it.

Friends are dealing with true losses. Friends have spent years abroad, doing service for the greater good. Friends are getting married, having babies.

And I'm always complaining about my boyfriend. Or putting up posters for Lord of the Rings film fests. Or ordering take-out and buying music from iTunes.

I'm living in the moment, but I'm not taking stock of that moment.

Went into work today - Sunday - to do some freelance work, but ended up getting caught up in, yes, trivial little things, like putting up posters and doing paperwork. Digging the job, but needing a vacation. Already.

But, as a whole, it's been another blah weekend, capping a busy week - I miss my friends. I'm missing a higher sense of purpose. I wish I was less selfish and superficial. Or, at least, I wish I felt less guilt about it.

Times like this make me grateful that I have a boyfriend who, as much of a pain in the ass as he can be, seems to genuinely care about me and accept me, selfish and superficial as I may think I am, and however I truly live my life.

And, I think beyond that, I do have some great friends that accept and love me too. No matter how dramatic or melodramatic I can be, no matter how distant or shitty I am, no matter what I do.

I'm thinking of a number between 22 and 24. Any guesses?

So in this New Year of 2004, I've been thinking a lot about being twenty-something. I'm going to philosophize on being the ripe-ole age of 23 and reflect from the lofty platform of wisdom such an age brings me.

Gag me.

But really, I'm thinking about the specific age of 23 and the strange new phenomenon that my bud Greg and I seem to have discovered -- the 23-year-old gay male.

What is the 23-year-old gay male, you ask? Well, we hypothesize, it's akin to a second coming out, if you will, a rebirth of a young man's homosexual self as they enter a new phase of their life. Gone are the ideals that these men held in their teens and early 20s -- thoughts of true love, meaningful sex, yadda yadda. Innocence is gone. All of a sudden, it's ok to be non-monogomous. It's ok to have emotionless casual sex. Yadda yadda. I don't remember exactly. But we developed the idea, and it made perfect sense a couple month ago.

I went through the phase at 22, as I bounced from one LTR to another. It was fairly brief, and it was fun, but it wasn't. I wasn't a whore, per se, but I really didn't care. For a brief moment, I could've been really bad -- but luckily, I live in Burlington, Vermont, home of one gay bar, where the pickings are so slim you really don't have a choice.

I watch as a friend (Tommy) in the "big city" sinks further and further into being in this phase. He's deep into drinking, drugs, clubbing, and fucking. But he's being stupid, unsafe. And I'm loosing him to the dark side of all that -- intoxication, unprotected sex, and having "boifriends" with names like "Fabio." It's sad. He's hardly my friend any more.

To state the obvious -- the twenty-somethings are a time of turmoil and change, and I'm in the midst of it. We're talking almost-quarter-life crisis here. And who better to speak on that idea than Jessica Simpson? "Twenty-three is old. It's almost twenty-five, which is almost mid-twenties." Immortal words, from an immortal airhead.

My immortal ass will be 24 in a couple months. Now that's almost mid-twenties. Yikes.

Now, onto a fitting forward from Yelli:

Being Twenty-Something

They call it the "Quarter-life Crisis." It is when you stop going along with the crowd and start realizing that there are a lot of things about yourself that you didn't know and may not like.

You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a year or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are now.

You start realizing that people are selfish and that, maybe, those friends that you thought you were so close to aren't exactly the greatest people you have ever met and the people you have lost touch with are some of the most important ones.

What you do not realize is that they are realizing that too and are not really cold or catty or mean or insincere, but that they are as confused as you.

You look at your job. It is not even close to what you thought you would be doing or maybe you are looking for one and realizing that you are going to have to start at the bottom and are scared.

You miss the comforts of college, of groups, of socializing with the same people on a constant basis. But then you realize that maybe they weren't so great after all. You are beginning to understand yourself and what you want and do not want.

Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what others are doing and find yourself judging a bit more than usual because suddenly you realize that you have certain boundaries in your life and add things to your list of what is acceptable and what is not.
You are insecure and then secure. You laugh and cry with the greatest force of your life. You feel alone and scared and confused. Suddenly change is the enemy and you try and cling on to the past with dear life but soon realize that the past is drifting further and further away and there is nothing to do but stay where you are or move forward.

You get your heart broken and wonder how someone you loved could do such damage to you or you lay in bed and wonder why you can't meet anyone decent enough to get to know better. You love someone but maybe love someone else too and cannot figure out why you are doing this because you are not a bad person.

One night stands and random hook ups start to look cheap and getting wasted and acting like an idiot starts to look pathetic.

You go through the same emotions and questions over and over and talk with your friends about the same topics because you cannot seem to make a decision.

You worry about loans and money and the future and making a life for yourself and while winning the race would be great, right now you'd just like to be a contender!

What you may not realize is that everyone reading this relates to it. We are in our best of times and our worst of times, trying as hard as we can to figure this whole thing out.

I did laundry today, for the first time since February 1st. Isn't that cool? I officially have enough underwear to last me a month and a half. I am a god amongst men.

So today officially ends Spring Break for all the Groovy UV kids. Which means tomorrow is back to life, back to reality. I enjoyed this week of laid-back work and home, having extra time to goof off at work and to spend QT with Dunc at home. I look forward to seeing those students that are a regular part of my life and whom I actually like -- but I am not looking forward to the status quo.

I've really enjoyed having the past two Friday nights off. Not that I've done anything eventful. It was just nice not to be doing events til after midnight. Plus, I've gotten into Wonderfalls, which is just an amazing new show, and anyone who is home at 9PM on a Friday night should tune to Fox because, goddamn it, its sweet. I think that even if you aren't home then, you should go home or at least get to a TV and turn it on. It's that good!

Spring Break was a nice break for me, even if I didn't really do much of anything. My big plans to go to both Boston and Montreal were sadly scrapped last minute. But it was nice to rest and catch up, because lord knows the next six weeks will be hell. Events every Friday night until May and TONS AND TONS of design work to do. I look forward to the peace and quiet that I'm promised come with summer.

Goddamn it, I'm a geek. Want to know how I know? The song today is Andy Partridge's "I Wonder Why the Wonder Falls" which, you guessed it, is the extended theme song of my new favorite show.

Tomorrow - back to the grind. Until then - Home Movies!