twenty-something

I'm home in Rutland for the night, after a white-knuckled, horribly snowy Friday night drive north and two nights in Burlington. It's my mama's birthday (the "excuse" for the visit), and it's been a good trip. Reunions and renewals all around, perhaps some of which I'll write more about later.

This was only my second trip to Burlington since my exodus last June (I went up briefly back in August). The place is still so comfortable that it instantly felt like home again, even after such distance. Being back was great -- old ghosts seemed far away, old friends still felt close, and the trip was entirely positive -- and at times it felt like no time had passed. But time has, indeed, passed, and I'm happy with where I'm at. BVT's still my favorite place in the world, but I'm not moving back anytime soon.

In case you were wondering, UVM won last night, 2-1, in overtime, adding another game to their now six game winning streak.

The field house was deserted, the facility itself was much lest impressive than Vermont's fancy Gutterson, and the Harvard fans were generally rude and quite nasty -- but the company and conversation were fantastic, as was the game. Our boys played well and proved to be a bit scrappier than their Ivy League opponents (which, as we all know, is just more fun) while the Crimson's pep band geeks played hits like "Toxic" and "Hips Don't Lie." It was grand.

All-in-all, another great date.

I have been dating a Harvard man for a little while now, and tonight we're taking our relationship to the next level.

We're going to a hockey game. And not just any hockey game. "His" team against "mine." That's right. The UVM Catamounts take on the Crimson tonight here in Boston. And we're going. Together.

I tend not to post about guys I'm dating here, unless they've passed into significant other or bad boyfriend territory (which, judging from my history, tends to be the same thing). It just doesn't feel right to post about someone or something new, especially when a Google search can easily bring you to this blog. And who knows who's reading it -- friends who don't comment (*ahem* mollypagejessicadaniellegreg *ahem*), past, present, or future suitors, lesbian reporters policing the blogosphere, or a certain ex-boyfriend. Actually, those are all people I know about -- so who knows who else?

But today I'm feeling like fucking self-censorship, fucking it right up it's tight, nervous asshole. I feel like not worrying about who's going to read this. So -- no thought to who it might piss off or hurt. No anxiety over whether or not I'll still be dating Mr. Harvard in the future and might regret this. No consideration of what kind of "trouble" I can get in by posting about a new relationship. No... I'm just going to write. Because?

I like this one.

(Which is exactly why I should not be posting anything on the internet about him. But I gotta gush, just a bit.)

Mr. Harvard is 29 and he's a man. Successful. Together. Hot. He's kind and sweet and loyal. He's tall and trust-worthy and everything I need right now. He's a most amazing kisser and he's taken me completely by surprise. We're taking things slow, but it's been about a month and I'm happily along for the ride, wherever it takes us.

(There. Gush over. I feel much better.)

This is my first hockey game since last season, when I went to several home games with said certain ex-boyfriend. This feels symbolic, important... and good. It already feels like a victory, for both our teams, Vermont and Harvard.

So... Will the Cats continue their five game winning streak tonight? And will I continue the many good-date winning streak with Mr. Harvard? The answers to these, and many other thrilling questions about my oh-so-exciting world, can only be found here at Twenty-Something, my self-indulgent and masturbatory blog.

Oh, and speaking of self-indulgent and masturbatory -- check out the Hack some MIT kids came up with for the Harvard-Yale football game a few weeks back:

It's true what they say. It is huge. And I kinda love it.

Tonight I'm headed home to Vermont for the Thanksgiving holiday. It'll be the first time I've been back to the Green Mountain State in nearly three months, making this the longest stretch I've ever stayed away from Vermont in, well, my entire life. Though I haven't lived there all my years, even when I lived in Rhode Island or New Hampshire or New York, I've always made it back about once a month.

I miss it terribly, and it's been hard, at times, to be away, but it was important that I focus on my new life here in Boston. That meant missing fall, my favorite season, in the most beautiful place on earth this year. Though I'm psyched to be back for my favorite holiday and to see my family, I'm a little anxious for this little homecoming.

So much has changed I left home on September 9th...

This will be the first Thanksgiving without my father since I was nine. I haven't written about it here, but my mother asked my father to move out the day I left for Boston. She filed for divorce within a month of that. The marriage is over, as, it would seem, is my relationship with my father. But that's not news. That's been true for over a year now.

It's been a long time coming. I've known this was inevitable. I've wanted this. But, surprisingly, I wouldn't say I'm "happy" about this turn of events. It's been harder than I would have anticipated, but I know that this is the best thing for my family. The dread that's accompanied visits home since my parents' marital woes took center stage is gone, but this is a whole new world and I'm a bit anxious to face it for the first time.

Still, I pack up the Volvo and I head north in a few hours... Vermont, here I come!

Happy Thanksgiving.

Tom and I met towards the end of my first semester at UVM, way back in the Spring of 2000. We instantly became best of friends, eventually roommates, and, as we affectionately called ourselves, "gay brothers." We had many adventures together, on campus, in Burlington, in Montreal, and beyond. My UVM experience really didn't begin until I met Tom -- and those years were some of the best of my life.

We've had our ups and downs since we left school in 2003 and spent the week after graduation together in P-Town. We've largely been out of touch in recent years, but my move to Boston (he's in Worchester) promised a end to our estrangement. Sadly, that has not been the case.

Tom's been in the hospital since the end of August with pancreatitis, which I found out a few weeks ago. I was shocked and saddened when I got an email, but things sounded... OK. He was going to be OK. The details were sparce, but the prognosis was good. I mainly felt shitty that I had no idea that my old friend was so sick, that he'd been in the hosptial for two months and I didn't know, that two months had passed and I didn't even wonder why I hadn't talked to one of my best friends...

But it's not about me or our estranged friendship -- it's about him. And tonight, when I found out the extent of his ordeal, that became even clearer. His heart stopped. He was in a coma. He's lost a ton of weight and virtually all muscle. He can't move. He can't really talk and he's had a tracheotomy. Blood clots, feeding tubes, physical therapy... the details all came flying out. And it's all just... horrible. And I had no idea how bad it was until tonight. I found myself nearly sobbing at the thought of my vibrant old friend stuck in ICU for over two months, unable to talk or move, and with such a long road of recovery ahead. The bottomline, I had to know, was, "Will he be OK? Will he be Tom again?" And the answer was a vague "yes, that's the goal." Then I knew I couldn't play the "why didn't I know / I'm a horrible friend" song in my head anymore. That's selfish and not helping anybody. Good or bad, the past is past and, really, it's all about now.

I love ya, Tommy. And I promise to be a better friend from here on out. My thoughts and my prayers go out to you, buddy. I'll see you soon.

I never really understood how people can mourn the loss of someone they never knew, never got how a community could cry and carry on over the loss of a virtual stranger. That is, I never understood because I never really felt it myself -- not until University of Vermont student Michelle Gardner-Quinn went missing and was found, a week ago, murdered.

I didn't know Michelle and I can't and won't pretend I did; though I had spent over six years at UVM, Michelle had been there barely six weeks before she met her tragic fate. She was a young and new member of the UVM Community, a stranger to me and to many, but she was still a part of that community and, thus, like a member of my extended family. I am deeply saddened by her passing and, from afar, I grieve with the rest of my people. My heart goes out to her family and friends and, despite my best efforts, I've become one of those people that I've never understood -- a person who mourns for a stranger.

All I know is that my home -- Burlington, UVM -- is in pain. And I'm not there. They're hurting, much more than I am, and there's nothing I can do to help. The sensational news here in Boston is brutal in its reporting, with a volume of coverage I wouldn't have expected. I have seen many familiar sights and faces on television in the past weeks. And, for the first time since I left, I really, really miss my home there at the college on the hill. I wish I could be there to help my community heal.

I still don't understand why we mourn for people we don't know -- but, for once, I feel it.

Yellow Flower.
Originally uploaded by 20sum.

Exciting, eh?

The weather here has been beautiful since I arrived last week -- 80s or so, sunny, warm, comfortable. Today's been the only day of rain. And it's the only day I chose to take any pictures.

It's been a lovely, lazy visit home. But barring an early-next-week job interview in Boston (*fingers crossed*), I head back to New York this weekend.

I'm looking forward to being back in the Apple. This "escape" has served it's purpose.

This place is drenched in memories, so many, in fact, that it's overwhelming. Every block, every familiar face, every store front, every drink order... it's connected to something, something special or profound or even mundane from the six and a half years I spent here. My heart feels swollen with emotion, full of warmth and longing, perhaps tattooed with a single word: "bittersweet." No place has ever quite done this to me before.

I worried that this visit may be too soon, just two months after fleeing. That I might come back and get seduced by the comfort, by the memories, but instead this visit has been the opposite. The familiarity and comfort is, well, comfortable -- but with it comes the realization that it's not what I want, at least not at this very moment in this very life. I left at the right time. This place is comfortable but changed, and while I would have adapted to those changes, I don't know that I would have wanted that. I left on a high note.

This place will always be home. It is my past. It may be my future. But it is not my present. There's a peace in that, in realizing that, finally, truly. And there's a freedom (and a terror) in not knowing what the hell is on the horizon.

I'm also realizing that so much of my home here, so much of my heart here, is wrapped around one person: Matt (a/k/a "Duncan"). Without him here, without him with me or just down the road, it feels like something is missing. No, not just missing. It feels like there's a giant crater in the middle of town that I just keep having to walk around. I never realized how inextricably linked he was, not just to my life, but to this place. As we navigate a long distance friendship, as I try to negotiate my feelings for him, it's sometimes tough and confusing. But space, from both my long-time flame and my long-time home, is what I need right now.

This visit is not too soon. It's just right. Perspective was what I craved, and Vermont has delivered.

Everything ends. Everything changes.

Even Burlington. Even me.

I'm tired. I'm nervous. I'm absolutely psyched. I have a hell of a day ahead of me and not many hours to sleep. I feel like I should have more thoughts, more words, of reflection, but not much comes tonight... Good-bye, for now, Vermont. I'll miss you.

Everything ends.

But I'm ready for it to begin.

Why am I leaving Vermont? What were my cryptic "personal and political reasons"? Well, here's the main one -- as written, below, in a wordy piece for UVM's LGBTQA Community Newsletter, which was adapted from an earlier blog post -- the American Red Cross, and their discriminatory presence on the UVM campus. I've found myself becoming more and more of an activist at UVM in recent months, but ultimately the fight has been too much for me. I need to take care of myself, and I need to go.

But I do hope that I leave behind an impact. People say that I will. Today I received two UVM leadership awards for my work on this issue. Awards mean nothing, ultimately, but I am hopeful that I have affected real change at this institution. Whether I'm here or not, the fight will go on.

Here's the piece, "Bleeding Green-and-Gold":

As of June 30th, I will no longer be an employee of the University of Vermont, an institution that has been my home for six and a half years, as a student and then as a staff member. I recently made the difficult decision to leave a great job in an excellent department, the catalyst being discrimination I face on this campus as a gay man, discrimination that is allowed and publicly supported by UVM's current administration.

Sexual orientation is a protected class at UVM, according to our non-discrimination policy, and has been since March 1987. In 1992, a Vermont state law was passed also protecting sexual orientation. Further, the core values of the University, "Our Common Ground" -- values I believe in very deeply -- pledge a commitment to fight against "oppression, degradation, and harassment" -- "injustice" -- of all kinds.

However, the University of Vermont currently allows the American Red Cross to hold and aggressively promote blood drives on campus. The Red Cross, in accordance with federal Food & Drug Administration guidelines, currently bars any "male who has had sexual contact with another male, even once, since 1977" from giving blood for life. In other words, any gay or bisexual UVM student, faculty, or staff member is not allowed to donate, and therefore not allowed the choice to participate in an activity that is taking place on campus. UVM publicly supports this discrimination against gay and bisexual men, according to statements by its administration printed in the Burlington Free Press and other media.

It's odd to be a "lame duck" now. I'm here for another six weeks or so, but a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders as the semester ends. As Yelli says, Saturday was my "last day of days"... The end is here.

Don't forget -- today is Ben & Jerry's Free Cone Day!

(It's also my sister's 14th birthday. Happy Birthday, Marissa!)

Free Cone Day is an annual madhouse where fools line up around the block for a free scoop of B&J's famous ice cream. The company -- which started right here in Burlington and is now owned by multi-national Unilever -- pulls out all the stops to thank its customers for twenty-eight years of prosperity. The "Free Cone" tradition began in '79, the year before I was born. Imagine -- something sweet from VT that's older than me!

Personally, I'd rather just go to the scoop shop tomorrow and shell out $3 for a cone to avoid the zoo. But you? You should totally go.

If I went, I'd get Sweet Creme & Cookies, my new fave flavor. What would you pick?

Check out B&J's official site for more details and for a participating store near you!

Damn. I really sound like they are paying me to say this. But really? I'm just a proud Vermonter and a fat kid at heart, happy to sing praise for one of our state's finest dairy products.

Amen, Ice Cream God. Amen.

I quit my job today.

While it still doesn't quite seem real, and while it wasn't easy, it certainly seems right.

As of June 30th -- or perhaps sooner -- I will no longer be an employee of the University of Vermont, an institution that has been my home for six and a half years, as a student and then as a staff member. I resigned of my own free will, not due to blogging or other controversy. My reasons for leaving now are both personal and political, and while I may reveal them here at a later date, for now those reasons will remain my own.

This news also means that I'll be leaving my home state of Vermont. For my friends and longtime readers of this blog, this news should hardly come as a shock. I've had a conflicted relationship with Burlington for years. I've longed for something new, different, more urban. I haven't been able to thrive as a gay man or a twenty-something at UVM or in Vermont for some time. In fact, I've been downright unhappy with many aspects of my life, particularly in the past year. It was time for a change.

So it would appear that, after years of thinking, longing, and whining, I've finally taken action. My resignation letter has been handed in.

At long last I am taking the next step. I am moving to Boston this spring or summer. No turning back now.

I know that leaving won't solve all my problems. In fact, it won't solve any, really, and will probably cause more. I'm a little scared to leave a good job and a decent life -- comfort -- for who knows what, but I'm more excited. After six years at UVM, and over twenty in Vermont, it's time to go.

I was born here -- literally on the UVM campus, in what is now known as the Fletcher Allen Medical Center. I like to think that I began my life here twice -- first as a ruddy, redheaded newborn in 1980, and again as a transfer student in 2000. I think I learned more in the past six and a half years than in the nineteen before them, not necessarily from my studies, but from life. There have been great victories and crushing defeats, highs and lows... This place made me the man I am today.

I'm leaving now because I can still say that I love this place. I'll leave behind friends and family, a good job in an excellent department, and a city that feels like a part of me. I'll leave behind a life and many, many memories. In Burlington and UVM, I found, for the first time since I was nine years old, a place to truly call home. It's been an interesting ride -- amazing, conflicted, tumultuous. I leave now because I can still call this place home, because I know will always be able to, even as I search for a new place to belong.

Wish me luck. A new chapter -- a new direction -- for this twenty-something officially begins today.

There's something about Vermont where I just get the sense that folks don't just talk the talk, they walk the walk, that kind of flinty say-what-you-mean attitude that this country needs because sometimes it seems like we've gotten caught up in so much spin and so much inauthenticity and so much nonsense that just a nice cool blast of the truth is what's needed.

While there hasn't been a whirlwind of coverage on Vermont's planned same-sex marriage bill that I mentioned yesterday, there is some, and most of it (from my Googling, anyway) appears to be local.

A quick round-up finds articles at Burlington Free Press.com, The Barre Montpelier Times Argus, Boston.com (The Boston Globe), and 365gay.com.

Don't bother clicking through any of those links, though. Each article is exactly the same (yay AP!). And each article includes that horrible and defeating first paragraph:

A Burlington lawmaker has drafted a bill to expand marriage to same-sex couples and plans to introduce it Thursday, although neither he nor advocates believe it will be debated or adopted this year.

As I understand it, it's unlikely for any bill to be "debated or adopted" in its first year, so unlikely that it's pretty much assumed for any new bill. The mention of this "fact" in the first paragraph of each article, in my opinion, is pretty biased and smacks of homophobia. But, hey, maybe I'm just biased myself. I obviously have an agenda for civil rights for me and mine -- but that's OK, because I'm not a journalist like Ross Sneyd of the Associated Press.

Also? I found no mention of the story on some Vermont "news media" sites, such as "The Champlain Channel" (our NBC affiliate, WPTZ) -- which features a top story headline of "Neighbors Irate Over B&B 'Swingers' Parties" yet no mention of this bill -- or, more disappointingly, my hometown's Rutland Herald -- which won a Pulitzer in 2001 because of its editorials on gay marriage/civil unions. I guess everybody in our little state is so focused on that Cashman controversy to pay much attention.

I'm certainly a long way from my old political and activist days, and I'm not very savvy when it comes to journalism, particularly online stuff, these days -- I haven't had a class on journalistic ethics since '99 -- so I'm sure someone will weigh in to correct me if any of this is wrong.

But I am entitled to my non-journalistic, pro-gay opinion, and it is simple:

that paragraph=biased
same-sex marriage=good
this bill=a big deal

Lawmaker plans bill expanding marriage to same-sex couples
MONTPELIER, Vt. -- A Burlington lawmaker has drafted a bill to expand marriage to same-sex couples and plans to introduce it Thursday, although neither he nor advocates believe it will be debated or adopted this year. [ full article ]

After a busy week and a good Thursday night, I woke this morning, like much of New England, to a snow storm. It didn't look too bad when I left the house and hit the road, but it was. The roads were terrible and my car wasn't happy. It was so not happy, in fact, that within a mile of the house, while driving up a steep hill, it decided to simply stop working.

With my foot to the floor and a battle cry in my throat, I tried not to give up. It sputtered, spun, and inched its way to the crest of the hill. And then it decided it wasn't moving another foot.

A tow and a trip to Burlington's Volvo dealer later, I found out that new snow tires are going to cost $200 each. When totalled with the bigger problem -- something called an oxygen sensor -- the car's trip to the doctor is going to cost me well over $1,000 (and won't be ready until Tuesday). I don't know what that means for my planned New Year's vacation to the Big Apple, but I can only assume it's not good news.

This is why I don't like owning a car.

Perhaps my Volvo read my mind. For a couple weeks now, I've been thinking of rebelling against the station wagon and trading it in for something a more fun. Or perhaps-- another thought of recent weeks -- I should just ditch the car altogether and move some place with public transportation. Thanks for crapping out on me, car. One step closer to making a big, scary decision...

Apparently a gay kid in Bethel, Vermont gets made into a jock. (Well, if playing soccer makes you a jock, then I was a gay jock in high school too.) And, supposedly, this ep is inspirational.

The kid's big brother was Dunc's floormate in college. And it's a small world afterall.

MTV, always good at reruns, is playing the show again tonight at 8PM, tomorrow at 4PM, and Wednesday at 6PM. I think I may have to watch it.

Vermont's own Stowe Mountain got a mention on tonight's episode of Lost -- sandwiched right between a gruesome shot of a broken leg and a gruesome shot of said leg being set by a clinical psychologist. That'll do wonders for tourism, eh?

Today I was send the photo above (and this story) from the parade. The photo had also been published on the cover of Vermont's little-gay-paper-that-couldn't, Out in the Mountains. If you care to play "Where's Waldo?" for a moment, you'll notice that hidden in the picture is not only a soaking-wet and frumpy-looking me, but my soaked-and-skinny teenage brother.

The kid ended up on the front of the gay newspaper just weeks before he began his freshman year of high school at a private Catholic academy, weeks before he began football practice, and he was completely unfazed. My family also, apparently, appeared in footage on the news that night, and my sister was very upset that she didn't get to see herself marching in the gay parade. But she told all her friends.

I love those kids. I think overall I'm proudest to be related to them.

Gossip from the Green Mountains!

"Actress" and "celebrity" Sandra Bullock was visiting her sister this week in Vermont...

For a PR stunt.

Sandy was in Montpelier for the opening of her little sister's new bakery, Gesine's Confectionary. The newlywed worked the counter, selling chocolate chip cookies, macaroons, and other baked goods.

"Their quality speaks for itself," she said.

The 41-year-old actress said she would not depend on the shop for a job, but would work there occasionally. "Only when I need the money," she said.

It's the little things that please us here in Vermont. The little things.

Happy anniversary, Vermont Civil Unions.

We Vermonters like to make trouble. Essex Junction, Vt.-based Contois Music Technology is "seeking damages over an alleged patent violation by the iTunes software." As much as I love Apple, I think Vermont might kick some ass in this case. [Via Apple Insider.]

The sky is turning black and the thunderboomers are rolling in.

I love summer storms. Love them.

Anybody getting Civil Unioned in Vermont in the next week or so? Want to have it filmed for the Greater Good... of Switerland? Then email Joe over at stereojoe pronto!

It seems that Swiss TV is looking to do a story on VT's CU Revolution, as their country is close to making it's own decision about domestic partnership rights for same-sex couples. Cool, huh? The only thing is the station wants the footage THIS WEEK. Know anybody headed the Chapel (or at least the Town Clerk's Office) really, really soon? Been putting off your own CU ceremony? Now is the time! You can be on Swiss TV!

Vermonter or not, read more at stereojoe -- my favorite gay Vermont blog that isn't my own!

If I do stay in Vermont for one more year (and I said if, Yelli - don't hit me yet!), I would love to live in a nice place like this. A shame that it's a bit out of my price range -- it's quite beautiful.

The University of Vermont men's basketball team pulled off one of the biggest upsets of the 2005 NCAA Tournament and the biggest upset in Catamount history with a 60-57 overtime win over fourth-seeded Syracuse in the first round of the tournament Friday night. [more]

Today is a big day for my alma matter. Our little ol' basketball team -- the "Hoop Cats," if you will -- takes to the court, and to the television, for a very big game. I wasn't lucky enough to get tickets, but I will be watching from the comfort of my living room.

After impressive quarterfinal and semifinal wins, the two-time defending America East Champion Vermont Catamounts (23-6) take on the second-seeded Northeastern Huskies (21-8) in the 2005 America East Championship title game. This is Vermont's third straight trip to the conference championship game, its fourth overall and the second time in as many years that it has hosted the title game at Patrick Gym. The winner earns an automatic bid to the NCAA Men's Basketball Championship. More.

(And we are, and always will be, UVM, people -- not Vermont, like Athletics pretends we are, or like they always call us on TV.)

UPDATE: UVM kicked Northeastern's ass.

Yes. I said, Mardi Gras in Burlington, Vermont.

Sounds foolish, no? There's a big huge parade (see last year's, above), very family-friendly. Beads but no boobs. And then there is lots of drinking. Basically, Magic Hat Brewing Co. -- their beer, my drink of choice -- constructed this celebration ten years ago, and it's kind of taken off. In theory, it's meant to benefit the Women's Rape Crisis Center, but I don't know how aware of that fact any of the participants are.

Something to know about me: I hate big parades. I hate big crowds of people. And yet here I go, down to Church Street, to participate in this spectacle... and then do some heavy drinking afterwards.

God help me.

Craigslist is now in Burlington! Check it out.

National news out of Vermont today.

And it involves bears.

One of the top stories on Yahoo! News this afternoon: the Vermont Teddy Bear Co. has caved to protests and stopped production on their Valentine's "Crazy For You" Bear -- which featured the fuzzy teddy wrapped up in a cute-as-a-button straight jacket.

"The $69.95 bear — which comes with a straitjacket and commitment papers — no longer appeared on the company's Web site Thursday."

I could make a joke about anybody selling out $70 for a stuffed animal being nuts, but I'll resist.

This week's Seven Days has a tiny little brief about 135 Pearl, Burlington's one true gay bar, and it's current struggle to stay alive.

TOUGH TIMES
Long-running nightclub 135 Pearl is on the market, but owners Craig Mitchell and Robert Toms are doing everything in their power to keep the establishment open. "This past year has hit us really hard, with the smoking ban and the slower economy," says Mitchell. "Things are not what they used to be."

Despite the difficulties, Toms says that staying "creative and positive" is of utmost importance in generating capital.

The venue has lately been home to a diverse range of entertainment, from the "What the Folk?" series to theater productions such as Hedwig & the Angry Inch. Mitchell and Toms are now turning to the community to keep the club alive, asking Burlingtonians to stop by for a drink and a dance. "I am committed to this community," says Toms. "I do not want to see this wonderful place disappear."

So Rutland has a gay bar. And it is called Shooka Dooka's.

This isn't Rutland's first gay bar, mind you. There's a vague history of them in the minds of many Vermonters. I remember one when I was coming out in high school -- I can never remember the name of it, but I do remember going, once, to some "T Dance" on a Sunday my senior year. I lurked on the edge of the dance floor as I watched my friends dance (this was before I had truly discovered the joys of alcohol). A handsome guy came up to me as the place was closing. He said he'd been watching me all night (I was oblivious). He gave me his number. He looked a bit like Val Kilmer.

I called him a week or so later. We met for coffee downtown. He revealed he had mental problems and lived in an apartment above somebody's garage. He was quirky, but probably fuckable, but I was innocent, so I just had him bring me home and that was that. I don't remember his name.

Back to Shooka Dooka's -- I went twice over Thanksgiving with Greg, both Thursday and Friday nights. We made a pact before we descended on Rutland that we would go, so when I picked him up T-Day Night, it was on our agenda. We drove by once, twice, maybe three times (still not a lady). Finally, I parked and we embarked on our Rutland gay bar adventure.

Admittedly, I reverted back to my high school self. I was nervous and a little freaked. Why? I go to the bar here in Burlington now without batting an eye.

The bar itself was a letdown. The space itself is surprisingly nice. Well, not nice, but it has potential and character. It's big, and there are many different facets -- two bars, a couple different rooms, a big dance floor, a live-music stage, many televisions. It was obviously an old Rutland redneck bar, but now it had a rainbow flag or two. I wanted to buy the building, move it to a city, sink a million into it, and open it as my own little gay bar. But, yeah, back to reality...

Night one was uneventful. The "crowd," though small, was colorful. Among them: A stern-but-friendly lesbian bartender. A semi-cute obvious regular in a ball cap and slight southern drawl, who harassed said bartender by telling her he was drunk enough to "eat her poontang" (Greg, incidentally, became smitten with this charmer and we ended up trying to find him at another bar after we left and went to Denny's). A young-ish lesbian couple (?), half of which seemed familiar. And a kind-hearted black man who eyed us since we entered, so outgoing it bordered on functionally retarded. He came up to us to chat and filled us in on some of the bar's story. Among other things, we learned that the last Saturday of the month is always "Men/Bear Night," and that he DJs then.

My heart skipped a beat when a group of people came in shortly after us. It was mostly girls (three or four of them), a handsome and tall gay guy, and finally -- a truly beautiful man, all baseball cap and single earring, in some North Face-ish jacket, oozing masculinity, oozing straight, newbie, or closet case -- ya know, any of those things I always fall for. I was immediately smitten. Increasingly long story short: the girls came and asked us to dance. We did, but I reverted to my high school self again. I wasn't drunk (I was driving) and I couldn't dance. I stood awkwardly, swaying a bit, on the big, empty dance floor, watching my man sit on the sidelines, one of the girls almost constantly on his lap. What a waste.

The second night was much busier, but I guess my perception was off from Night #1. I mean, at that point, 20 people would've felt like 200. But still, the place felt not just fuller, but almost full. There were people of all ages, shapes, sizes -- well, all but really attractive or appealingly intelligent. But I guess that's just Rutland.

Greg and I lurked for a bit. We ended up sitting at the end of the bar, by the front of the place, directly in front of the large picture window. Undoubtedly, foolish people like us were driving-by the place all night to check out the novelty of the gay bar, or to scope it out before they went it. All night, we were the first (and maybe only) ones they saw. I hadn't been the face of homosexuality in Rutland in years.

The handsome and tall gay guy from the night before was there, suddenly bleached blonde. I said hey, and he joined us for a while. Marshall was his name. Kristen, my best bud from another life (Rutland High School), breezed through. She looked amazing and, well, breezy. She, a stanch bisexual, said she was "sick of lesbians" but then proceeded to leave us for the girl drama in the other room.

A cute but creepy guy began to cruise Greg. He was cute. Nice face, short hair, glasses, decent build -- he looked a bit like Wesley from Angel. The thing was, he was wearing an ugly yellow jacket tied around his waist as he circled the bar. It was just horrifying. Eventually, he sat near/next to us, and we mostly ignored him. Finally, while Greg was in the bathroom, I caught his eye contact and couldn't not say hello. So we struck up a conversation, and this Charlie ended up being a pretty nice guy. A fellow RHS graduate (surprisingly, class of '82 - I would've said '90 at the earliest - we looked young), now a wine dealer in Boston, he was home for the holiday. Add a couple other random gay guys through out the night (all of us were just in town for Thanksgiving), and you got our posse for the night.

We stayed until 2AM, and the place didn't seem to be closing. They stopped serving and things had wound down a bit, but in many ways, things were still in full swing. Greg and I left for Denny's, without any boy adventures, or any interest in having any. But I guess that's just Rutland.