Your Favorite Kind of Fuckboy.

Let's start this post by clearing up exactly what the term "Fuckboy" even means. I just looked it up to see if the meaning has changed since the last time that I did, and what do you know - it did. When I first looked it up, it meant essentially a modern day "playa". Currently, it reads as the worst kind of man imaginable. A guy that represents the worst trends and "isn't bout shit."

My definition of Fuckboy is kind of a mix between the two. To me, a fuckboy is a guy who plays games and doesn't want a relationship or anything, but doesn't make it clear with any of the, for lack of a better word, hoes or bimbos that all he's up for is fucking. Me, I'm the cool kind of fuckboy. In my opinion, I'm the kind of Fuckboy that people WISH they had. I won't quote the title, but I'm the best kind of Fuckboy there could be.

I'm the kind of Fuckboy doesn't play games. I'm not into them. I'm at the point in my life where I don't want to play them. Not that I ever really had, and seeing the games be played doesn't make me want to play them any more so. Even when I was young I never really dated; I was always quick to get into a relationship (not that I was in very many relationships) because I knew I liked this person, so why am I holding off on making them mine? I've come to learn that that is not something that you rush, but I don't want to play games.

Playing games requires a lot of extra work and frustrations AND time. All of which either isn't worth it or I don't have. I realize that it can be very hard to not play games. The whole wait three day rule game, or see who will text who first. Trust me, I get how sometimes these games can seem like they will provide you with an answer, but all it will do it drive your brain insane and fuel anger. How will the other person know they're involved in a game? You're essentially setting them up for failure! And then on top of that, you're going to be blaming them for a failure they didn't even know was being committed! Ergo, I don't play games.

I'm the best kind of fuckboy because I'm honest. Most of the other fuckboys that exist don't. They manipulate, cheat, and deceive. Now I'm not saying I'm a saint because that is FAR from the truth. I'm just saying that I'll be real with you. Part of my new year's resolution to myself was to start being honest. I was tired of always lying to cover things up and to protect feelings. I've learned better. You can't always protect people's feelings; however, you can save them a lot of turmoil by just being honest.

If I don't like you, I'm going to make it very apparent to you. I'm not going to feed you false comments and pretend. If I don't like you, I will either straight out tell you, or be sarcastic about it. If I solely just want to have sex with you, I will be as apparent as I can be. I will flirt, I will take off clothes, and I will grab. I won't play the texting game with you and nor will I chase you down to figure out what time of day will work. If you want to play the game of someone chasing after you, then play it elsewhere because I don't want to play.

I know what my schedule is like and I can make pretty accurate guesses about things that happen around me. I don't believe anyone to have a busier schedule than I, unless you've got two or three little tots at home. I will not chase you down and I will not text you everyday to see if you're available. I will try three times at most, but then I'm done. If you've blown me off three times in a row, then fuck it. I've been told that if you're chasing someone and they don't chase you back, then they aren't worth your time. I'm really starting to see it.

It isn't a cocky thing either, it is just knowing what you're worth. Evidently I'm a pretty damn good looking guy, at least that's what people keep telling me, so why would I keep chasing someone who doesn't set aside time for me?! Honestly, fuck that! I'll find someone else who has their life in a better grip to fuck with. Sorry bout it.

Thirdly, if I want to be with you, I will fucking let you know. I don't think I've ever had an experience quite like this before. Where I know that I am not ready for a relationship, yet I want to spend my time with one particular guy. I had a bit of a hookup with this other guy who was very nice and he seemed to think that I was very taken by him. I told him flat out that that was not the case. He was a nice guy and all, but I have just my eyes set somewhere else. And I've told a multitude of people that. If I like you, I will let you know! This guy who I do feel very taken by, started out as just a very good friendship. (For the most part) We had great sex and I always had such a great time being around him. Skipping over a lot of bs, I find myself to now where I very much like him and I've straight out told him. I was leaving his house one day and I was very annoyed with how the morning was going, so I told him. I turned around and told him that I wanted to date him. I don't want to be his friend, nor do I want to be someone he just plays with. I want to know that this is going somewhere and I am not just getting angry and putting thought and emotion into something that will be going nowhere.

Like I said above, I don't have the time nor the patience for bs. I don't want to play games and I don't want to beat around the bush. I know what I want in my life right now. People who don't know what they want as of right now need to stay the fuck out of my way. Or don't, but I'll tell you what I want and you can take it from there.

It's not me being a dick, it's just me controlling my life. If you're being an idiot, I'll let you know. If you're saying something stupid, I'll let you know. If I think you're good looking I'll let you know. If I want to have sex, I will let you know. If I want something more, I will let you know. All I ask in return is that you be honest with me and you let me know how you feel. If you don't want to be with me, let me know. If you don't want to have sex, let me know. If you're not interested in me, just let me fucking know.

Be transparent. Be real. I promise I won't be too mad at you. Initially I will be a little annoyed, but at least I won't be wondering what the fuck is going on! I'll do you that favor, so just give it back. Most people WISH they had that! I'm the best kind of fuckboy. *Drops Mic*

Stop Lying.

I want to stop lying. To you. And you. And you. And especially to you. How long can I keep this up? I'm not doing anyone any favors. I want to stop lying. I hope I can. I think I'll start tonight, even though I kind of started two days ago. I'm petrified. I feel like these lies have gotten me this far, and taking them back might mean something bad. And I don't know how much more bad I can really take. Let me keep this short and to the point.

I'll start with you. I'm sorry I lied to you. We've gone through a lot. Adventures that people our ages couldn't imagine doing and people twice our age dreamt they could do. We were in love. We laughed. We fought. We yelled. We screamed. We kissed good night. We gave stuff up for each other. We fell apart. We're not friends.

For a while I had doubted our relationship. And for a while I had lied to you. I cheated on you. I can't even say just once. I did it multiple times. I did it because I knew we wouldn't have sex and it infuriated me. You either pushed me away or I had to thoroughly chase you and I never got chased back and I was fed up. I didn't even feel bad after a while. It just became something I felt I had to do.

The other night, I told you I didn't care about you. I didn't lie, but I was crude. I told you I didn't care about you, I took advantage of you, I manipulated you, and I didn't care. I knew I could get what I wanted out of you, so I did. I didn't even feel remorse for it. It was fucking with you, and I knew it. I knew it and I did it anyways.

To you, I'm sorry.

I want to stop lying to you, too.

I met you about two years ago. We met on grindr. We talked for a long time. Even talked over the phone. You were in a horrible spot. Hated your job, you were living with your ex and you could never have people over, etc. We tried to hook up multiple times, and we just never made it happen. Fast forward two years.

We reconnected after my break up. Finally. Somehow, I was hoping I'd run into you. We chatted for maybe 10 minutes. Very brief. I invited myself over and we connected very quickly. Very easily. I fell for you. Very easily and very quickly. I kept trying to tell myself not to fall so hard because I didn't think you'd like me back, but I did.

I'm sorry I told you I didn't think we should date. Every day I kick myself because of it.  Every day I wonder where would I have been if I had actually dated you. I thought we vibed very well together. I thought I saw a couple flaws between us and I let them scare me away, but I wish I hadn't. I don't think I'm in love with you because I've distanced myself enough to not get there, but I always get these deep feelings brought back whenever I think about you.

I lied to you. Maybe not directly, but by not speaking up. I should have told you how I felt. Told you the type of feelings I had developing for you. I should have told you how angry it made me when I felt like I was the only one making plans with you. I should have told you how angry it made me because it felt like you could never make time for me or how I never felt special because of it. What pushed me away was your inability to make me feel special and wanted. Maybe not wanted, but needed. I really like you. Immensely, but I'm scared to tell you because I feel like it won't be reciprocated or maybe I've missed my shot.

For that, I'm sorry.

I want to stop lying to you.

You are such a special person. Such a rare person. So strong willed. Strong minded. Strong in general. You always keep kicking. There have been tons of forces that would have told many to give up and turn off the light, but not you. You have this light, this fire that burns. Burns bright. And no matter how dim it gets, you always turn it back on somehow. You're funny, you're witty, you're smart, and you are going to go far. But maybe not with me.

I've lied to you. For a while now. Longer than I thought I had. Sometimes not intentionally. It sucks because I really like you and we have such a great time together, but it's pretty clear that we're not meant to be.

The other day, you told me you were falling for me. I've been almost dreading the moment that you were going to say that. I've been dreading it because I don't feel the same way, and I don't think I ever will. From the moment we met, you'd been talking about me in this special light. A light that is clearly different from the light I see you in. You say things like, "You've known all along" or "From the moment I saw you". Meanwhile I say things like, "I love when you" and "you, too".

I don't see you in that light. Part of that I blame on myself for not listening to you. For a while you had been telling me that we can't say certain things to each other because it will feel more like we are friends more so than we are boyfriends, and you were right. I feel like we work better as friends than we do as boyfriends. We make fun of each other, call each other hunty, etc. And it has somehow pushed you into the friend zone with me.

If I'm being totally honest, the lies don't stop there. I haven't enjoyed our sex life, or lack there of. I know we'd been easing our way into things, but I hadn't been having a lot of fun along the way and I lied to you when we finally accomplished something and I said I enjoyed it. To be honest, I couldn't enjoy myself because my focus was elsewhere and I couldn't keep going.

As shallow as it sounds, sex is a big part of my life, and I enjoy it. I want to enjoy having sex with the person I like and eventually love, but whatever we were doing wasn't it. And then we don't vibe well sexually. As much as we vibe well everywhere else, I never felt as though we could make it happen sexually. This pushed me to cheat. Sex already wasn't readily available to me and I didn't necessarily enjoy it when it was, so I sought it elsewhere. I wish I could say I only did it once, but I didn't. I wish I could say that I wish I could be the one for you, but I can't, and I shouldn't waste any more of your time.

For that, I'm sorry.

Lastly, I want to stop lying to you. You are the most important person in my life. You are my absolute favorite person. Of all the people I should be honest with, you should be at the top of the list. At the beginning of the year, I told you I would stay true to you. Listen to your heart and follow everything that would make you happy. Good Vibes and good times. But I went back on that.

I'm not proud of myself. I'm not proud of you, whoever you are. Because of what I've done, you are not who I necessarily wanted you to be. For two months, I lied to you and drove you into this rut. This rut filled of fear, anxiety, solitude, hunger, etc. From that, I let you get talked into bad jobs, things you weren't ready for, and scary situations. I let you have a panic attack. Even passed that, I made you go back and have another one. I made you pull over to the side of the road and cry to your friend at 7 in the morning. I made you beat yourself up day in and day out for an hour until you got to your destination and then for12 more hours.

Now I've got you trapped between three guys. One whom you want almost nothing to do with. One you wish you could be the one for. And one you truly want to be with, but don't feel like could be with you. I feel like I don't even know what to tell you. I feel like I don't even know where to tell you to go next or what to do next.

For that, I'm sorry.

I want to do better. I want to start telling the truth. To you. And you. And you. And especially you. I hope I can somehow make you proud of me again.

Young. Wild. Free.

Wow. My last post was back in October of 2015. It was on How To Get Away With Murder. I remember first coming across that show whilst searching up Alfred Enoch. He played Dean Martin in the Harry Potter movies, he was the only black kid. He becomes more relevant in the movies when he dates Ginny in Half Blood Prince, but he doesn't get more relevant than that. But I digress.

I remember searching him up to see where all the characters had gone off to and seen that he had starred in this show. Then, me and Kyle were looking for a new show to watch and then we came across it and we started to watch it together. We were hooked. Binge watched the whole first season in a week. Then we fan girled over it and other shows for a couple of weeks until they all ended. God, it feels so long ago.

I know what I want to say in this post. I know the story I want to tell. I know the feelings I want to express. What I hope this will do is... honestly. I really don't know. I hope it makes me feel better. Makes me feel stronger. More hopeful. More free. I've got my cup of tea. Grab yours and maybe a cup of Joe, too. This is going to be a long and bumpy story.

Around the same time as this post, I remember we had one of our biggest fights. I never thought I'd have a fight this big. I remember even thinking that I was such a tolerant person that I couldn't possibly get into huge fights. Then this happened. The fight of no return.

It was around Halloween time and we had planned to go to Mazilla. Mazilla is this corn field out in the poconos that people turn into a maze and create landmarks through the maize for people to find and mark. Actually loads of fun. That day, Kyle had mentioned that there was a house that was being forclosed and his client only deals with foreclosures that get fixed up and he wanted to check it out. Ultimately, he had planned that if he liked how it looked when it was fixed up that he would want to buy it and live there and then sell it and flip it years down the road.

For as long as I've known Kyle, he has always loved looking at and admiring houses. He's always talked about buying houses and other people buying houses and his entire family even talk about it. Shit, everytime his sisters came over, they would constantly tell him how good he's doing for himself and how he should just buy a house. This was something has always intimidated me. Looking back, I think my mistake was not addressing it then.

So, we go to see this house. Driving, this place was probably a good ten minutes from our apartment. From what I remember, it wasn't a bad looking place. Not great, but it had potential. Good space, reasonably sized yard, and it had the place had cupholders. I kid, I kid. It didn't have cupholders. (Deal breaker)

He loved the idea of this place. I think he had had his mind pretty well set before even going and then this was kind of icing on the cake. It had seemed so easy to him. He had a whole speech ready for me about how we were going to afford it, what it would do for us in the long run, etc. What he couldn't give me, we're the answers I wanted. Even more so, he couldn't get me to meet his point of view. If there could have been one defining moment of change, this was it.

At this point, I could no longer sugar coat anything. I had to make sure that I got my point across and that I got it across, firmly. I wasn't going to be pushed into doing something I didn't want to do, especially not something as big as this. Buying a house is a HUGE thing to do. Someone that I, being only 18 at the time, didn't want ANY part in. Shit, at that point, I didn't even have a car! I couldn't even afford a car payment or even insurance let alone a mortgage, or god forbid anything major went wrong with the house.

He asked me what I thought about his idea to buy it and flip it years down the road. At the first chance I got, I told him no. I had zero interest in this investment and there was not any room for compromise on the matter. First off, the place had been too far for me to really navigate. I was very fortunate that our apartment was about a mile down the road from campus, so I was able to walk to school. I was also very fortunate that the buses ran right in the vicinity of where I needed them to. This place, was not as feasible.

This place had been about another two miles from where we lived, ergo, another 3 from campus and 2 from the nearest bus stop. Kyle couldn't understand what that meant for me because he had a car. He could afford this move because getting around wasn't an issue for him, that and he makes more money than I do. However, he wouldn't have had the same problems as I, and he just wasn't seeing that. Nonetheless, it didn't matter to me whether he saw my point of view or not. My mind was made up, and it wasn't going to change.

After that discussion, we left to go for Mazilla. In that drive, I could tell the entire mood of the day had changed. He had been upset that I did not like his idea and that I didn't want to move. It had seemed that he had had so much faith that I wouldn't disagree with him and he'd be calling up his client to spread the news that he hadn't considered me saying "no". Everytime I had tried to hold a conversation with him, it was like talking to someone who was peeved at you. One word answers and pouting. I remember asking if he was okay, and of course he answers, "Yup, I'm fine." As if that ever means what it is supposed to, but I just let him deal with his feelings and decided not to push him into talking.

The whole evening at Mazilla, I got increasingly more frustrated with him because of this attitude he carried since the house viewing. He wouldn't want me to touch him, didn't want to talk to me, wouldn't listen to me, or even let me take the lead. He would sprint off into one direction and go, so after a while, I let him go. I let him go off into a direction and I went off into my own. The competitive part of me wants to admit that I found two or three landmarks while on my own and he hadn't found any. (Enter applause  emoji) Eventually, we linked back up, however, his attitude hadn't changed. He continued to sprint ahead without my discretion, until I forced him by intentionally leaving in a separate direction.

Two hours and a piss in the maize later, he pulls me aside in the middle of the maize and finally speaks up. He admits that he had been frustrated this entire time because of what I told him back at the house. He told me that he had saw such a great investment there and it would pave the way for us in the future. He had said that he had our best interests at hand, and that this would work out if I just listened to him.

I knew this had been coming, and I knew exactly what I had to do. My mind had not changed or even varied in the slightest in the hours we spent in the maze, and evidently neither did his. I had expressed to him once more that I didn't like the idea and that I didn't want to do it. The place is too far from civilization for me and is not feasible for me to get around, I didn't want him taking on most of the bills because I couldn't afford them, and I didn't want to be burdened by that much responsibility at such a young age. To me, we hadn't even been in our place long! At that point, we had lived there for 8 months! I hadn't even gotten the chance to fully enjoy living there. I LOVED being in that apartment,  and I was not ready to move by any means.

He continued to try and persuade me and feed me lines about how he was thinking about our future and how this would make it so much easier for us. At this point, I had started to get thoroughly upset because it had seemed like he hadn't even been listening to me. It was like talking to a bigot; only seeing one side no matter what. I had to get my point across. I needed to let him know that I meant what I said and that this wasn't something that I wanted to do. I knew what I had to tell him. Best part was that it wasn't bullshit. It was me speaking total truth.

I told him, "I can't make you do anything. At the end of the day, you are a big boy, and you are going to do whatever you want to do. But with that said, if you buy this house, it will be your house, and I will not be living in it." His face stood there astonished by what I said. What was probably a 20 second stare seemed like an hour, and he asked me if I was serious and I told him yes. Right at my response, he told me that he thought my thought process was stupid and immediately stormed off in the opposite direction and I couldn't even chase him. I stood there for a second and then I tried to find him, but I had lost him in the maize. I was so frustrated at this point, I don't even remember wanting to find him. I found the last two landmarks and then exited the maze.

Once I left, I sought him out to try to try to talk to him, but he wasn't having it. He continued to storm off and I met him at the car. At this point, I had had it. I tried to talk to him, but he didn't want to talk. I tried to be honest, but he didn't care. I tried to consider his feelings, but he didnt consider mine. I tried to be reasonable, but he chose not to be.

The car rise was quiet almost the entire way. I told him I didn't want to go to dinner, but he took us anyways. There, I didn't say a word to him. Shit, I couldn't even look at him. I was so infuriated by him, and him forcing me to go to dinner after I said I didn't want to was a slap in the face to me. I believe he tried to reach for my hand and then I snatched it away. If I remember right, he tried to have some type of conversation, but I was over it. I paid the bill, he drove us home, and I slept on the couch without saying good night. He didn't eve try to stop me. Rule number 10 of the love rules had been broken, and I didn't care.

The next morning, was quiet. Neither of us spoke to each other for the first hour and then he sat next to me. He grabbed my hand to hold it and I had snatched it away. I was still very furious with him. He hadn't considered my feelings. He called them stupid. He had hurt my feelings. I remember my mom telling me when I was younger to get used to getting my feelings hurt because it was going to happen a lot. That may be inevitable,  but it will be avoidable when it is possible and it will be enforced. The moment he had did that, was one of the moments he lost me in.

After I snatched my hand away, he rolled his eyes and walked away without further effort. With that, he got in the shower and my manager had reluctantly called me in early. With that, I got dressed and left without goodbye. Kyle expressed that that had been wrong of me, but I told him contrary. I felt as though he had not even began to truly try and I expressed that. I think that day was one of the many times I had actually believed I was going to have to break up with him.

Later that night, I believe we had actually had the conversation about what happened. He expressed that he wanted to move into a bigger place, meanwhile, in more words than I shouldbhave, I admitted that I had doubts in our relationship. I remember the amount of times that I would just walk out onto the balcony in the middle of the night contemplating how I truly felt about our relationship. How he made me feel. If we had been right for each other. What I would and should do. This fight had been something almost defining for me, and it was time I spoke on it.

He wasn't happy about it, but I don't think that he had taken me seriously. We had said that we would try to do better. I told him to stop rushing a move and he told me we had to plan something soon. So we compromised. If our neighbor had moved, we would take that apartment. It had been a lot bigger and only $25 more expensive. At the time, I thought this had been a perfect compromise because it wouldn't be further, wouldn't have been any more expensive, and it couldn't be for some time. Or at least I thought. I told you this ride was going to be bumpy. Remember that boiling hot cup of Joe? Grab it because it's about to get real cold in here.

Two months later, Kyle texts me while I was at work. At this point, I had been having even stronger doubts about our relationship and I had even expressed it to some of my closest friends and told them what it might even mean. It was amazing the feeling that this text brought me. I opened it and it said that he had great news for me. He didn't even need to tell me. I looked up at my friend (one of my coworkers at the time) and I told her. I told her that he had good news for me and that I knew what it was. It was the beginning of December and the year was coming to a close. I never thought this text would come this soon. I had been banking on the fact that it wouldn't, but it did. Our neighbor had decided he was going to move and that the apartment was up for rent. My heart had dropped.

I remember telling Kyle to just give me time to think about it, and he had been confused because he thought we had agreed, but said okay. Little did he know, I didn't need time to think about buying the apartment, I needed time to assess what it was that I was going to do next.

Maybe a week passes by, and I remember just feeling different the entire time. I had no patience. For anything. I didn't want to be bothere,. I had been angry all the time, and I felt trapped. I was a dick to Kyle and I made no effort in trying to hide it. I had become very blunt and less considerate as time grew on. The end was coming.

I remember being at work debating about what I was going to do. I knew I had to break up with him soon. I couldn't go into a new place and a new lease with the amount of doubts I had. I couldn't go another day of hiding my frustrations and going on the way I was. I had to break up with him while we were still on a good note and before I did something I'd regret. It sucked to have to ruin the holidays, but it had to be done.

I asked one of my coworkers how he had broken up with his ex-girlfriend hoping for good advice. It turned out that she was a bitch and he told her to fuck off. Not very helpful to my situation. Then another coworker came over while I was talking to the other guy. The sane guy I work was talking to had asked why I had asked and I had told the both of them that I had been planning to break up with Kyle. Me and the girl had walked over to where it was just me and her and I continued to talk to no prevail. I remember just talking about what I was going to do. Talking about how I needed to do what had to be done because if I didn't, we'd just end up hating each other. I had gotten about two sentences in and I started reminiscing. It had been amazing. The whole night I  had been scared and angry, but in that moment all of it relinquished to pain, distraught, and sorrow. I couldn't fight back the memories or the tears that came with them. I had remembered our first date at Chili's, the night I asked him to be my boyfriend, the beach trips, our move into the apartment, everything. It had all seemed to hit me like a wave hitting footprints in the sand and washing them away. That night, I broke up with Kyle.

We cried. A lot. I never thought I could hurt that bad. Or even hurt in that kind of way. I had always imagined that people had been exaggerating those feelings. This was no exaggeration. Nothing about this had been fake. None of this had been easy. In those 24 hours, i had to make one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make in my life.

We had lived together for another two and a half weeks before Kyle had moved out. Those two and a half weeks had to be the most aggravating and stressful points in our relationship of knowing each other. He had not made it easy. I believe knew he had just needed space, which was very hard to do with us living in a one bedroom apartment. He predominantly stayed in the bedroom and I stayed predominantly in the living room. He slept in the bedroom and I slept on the couch. I tried to have conversations with him and tried to make sure he was okay, but he shut me out. Any time I had tried to talk to him, it had been one word answers or frustration and anger out of him. He only talked to me when he wanted something. It was only ever about splitting up possessions or sex, and it was enough to push me over the edge. He had finally moved out and we had another big boy talk resulting in a major key in our relationship: "it isn't about what you think you did, it's about what the other person felt you did." I stressed a major point on feelings. My feelings have always been of dire importance to me. They make me who I am and I am going to protect that.

As we rolled into the new year, I had intended to make this year count for something real to me. This was my first year that I had been single, living on my own, going to school, working, and being out of the closet. This is the first year that I've had to depend solely on myself. The very first year in my life where I am my own parent and my own best friend. When Kyle gave me his key to my apartment, that was the moment that introduced a new beginning for me. I had an apartment to refurbish, a life to restart, and new experiences to discover.

Currently, I am doing very well for myself. I still live in the same apartment, by myself, and going through each motion as it is presented to me. I have made it through the first couple of weeks at school and I am receiving my license for a new job that I will be starting very soon. I have been going on a couple of dates here and there, but nothing too heavy. There's even a guy who I've developed pretty big feelings about and I'm trying to decipher them and keep them at bay. I don't want to be in a relationship for a while. Right now, I want to date, have experiences at my leisure, work, meet people, etc. This year is all about redefining who I am as a person, as a young adult. This year is all about good times and good vibes. This year is all about making things happen. This year, I will be YOUNG. WILD. AND FREE.

~Be Breezy!~

Making Us Look Bad

Good morning guys, I know it's been a while, and I'm sure you're expecting the same usual BS. Well, that's good because that's really all it is. (Enter shameful emoji)

Today's post is brought to you by an experience I've been having in my Intro to Cultural Diversity lecture class. I can only hope that my writing is getting better as time goes on; however, being that I keep taking such huge hiatuses, it may be getting worse. But this post is mainly to get my thoughts out, however crude they may be, and hopefully get some feedback or answer my own questions.

I have an 8 AM lecture class that is required for my minor in Sociology and required for most other people's majors and minors, whatever they may be. In difference to some others, I actually find this course interesting, which I assume should be important if it is related to your choice of field. I actually care about what the professor is talking about and find the information interesting and engaging from time to time. Now, because I'm saying that I find the topics interesting doesn't mean that I don't find some parts uninteresting and boring. To all wide range courses, there are parts you like and dislike. In general, I think there are parts of things that you like and dislike, but you have to take the good with the bad. In fact, this course was going to be the deciding factor on if I was going to keep sociology as my minor because I didn't find the first course I took, Intro to Sociology, that interesting. It turned out to be my professor that I found less interesting than the course itself, which is good because it means I have a good professor this semester to keep me engaged. The problem this semester lies with this insanely rude student in the class.

This is a class of AT LEAST 100 students! The fact that ONE student could annoy me this much is insane! I never used to notice him until after he presented his project with his group. His group's topic of choice was nothing interesting and his performance was dull to say the least. What made him stand out to me was that he was obviously gay.

People like this always stand out to me because of their strength and their egos. They stand out to me because despite what the general population of males may think about guys who are flamboyant and for lack of a better term shoot rainbows or a purse falls out when the talk, they stay true to who they are and they do it with pride. This guy in particular where's the tight skinny jeans, the long, flowing cardigans, talks in a very effeminate voice, and paints his nails. I think the nails is what caught me right off the bat.

I remember painting my nails when I was little. I thought I looked soo cool. My older sister and mom did it, so I thought I would be just like them. And then my parents seen what I had done. My parents were obviously disapproving and made me take it off immediately. I never cared about it much growing up, it was just one of those things we did when we were little and got in trouble and never bothered with it again. I don't think about it now and I'm not jealous of the kid that wears it, I'm just proud of him for wearing it outright and proud.

So why does he bother me? No doubt he made me proud and made me feel like I wasn't alone. He stood up against stigma and fought it off of him. He stays himself among anything else. Why does he annoy me to my last nerve? Because of the rest of his character.

Ever since I noticed him that day, EVERY time I'm in class, I know he's there. Not because I can see him, and not because I find him attractive. (Gross) It is because I can hear is rude, obnoxious ass.

Every class period, this guy is fucking belching up a storm and talking over the professor about the STUPIDEST shit! He'll be complaining, or talking about what he's doing or what he would want to be doing, or gossiping, or talking about someone, and those kind of people aggravate the SHIT out of me!

It would be one thing if I only heard him or he only annoyed me whenever I had to sit near him, but he's obnoxiously annoying from everywhere in the room! He always sits in the back left corner of the room and his voice just fucking travels; mainly because everyone else is fucking quiet. One day, I had to sit next to him because I was already late and I didn't want to be picky on where I sat, so I sat next to him and a friend of mine who is friends with him. I never wanted to hit someone as bad as I did that morning.

This guy kept fucking complaining that he was getting sick, and then how he was going to shop online, asking our mutual friend if she liked the sweater he was going to buy, and why he should get it, and other clothes that were ugly, and how he wanted to go get coffee. I shit you not, this is the short list of what he actually did. What made it all so much worse was that he knew he was being obnoxious, and he was feeding off of it.

Today was just as bad, if not considerably worse. Today, the professor won't off lecture and started to talk about an experience that had touched him personally about genocide. He went on about the topic and even broke down and started crying because of how strongly this topic meant to him, and the kid was still being obnoxious and whatnot. I was unbelievably infuriated that the kid could not even hold himself together while the professor is pouring his heart out in front of the class and couldn't help myself from shooting him dirty looks for the remainder of the lecture.

So why did I choose to write about him? I'm in college now, I've had TONS of people annoy me in this manner before, if not worse! What makes this guy special enough to make me write about him? The impression be leaves behind.

Over the summer, the United States courts finally did the right thing and legalized gay marriage in all 50 states. This was an incredible victory for the gay community, and I wish I could have gotten myself to post something before I went to work that day, but I couldn't. After the initial excitement and tears and feelings had been gradually eradicated, I couldn't help feeling like we still aren't where we need to be. No doubt, we passed an incredible milestone and have come a long way, however, our fight and struggle are not over. We still have battles of stigma we need to fight. What about our Transgender brother and sisters? What about the youth that kill themselves and struggle with the knowledge that coming out could mean dire repercussions and exile from family and friends. What about that guy that doesn't know that being gay doesn't have to change who you are?

What makes this guy different from anyone else to me is the impact that he has on other people's meaning of what it is to be gay. I remember my dad and my assistant manager talking about how "all gay guys are catty and throw themselves out there, etc." What this kid is doing is proving to some people that that stigma is true. He's showing how we only care about ourselves and be obnoxious, etc. Guys like him make it hard for guys like me who come out because we don't want to be stigmatized that way just because we're gay.

Standing on the inside, however, I understand and know that it shouldn't be looked at that way, but sadly, it is. I know that he shouldn't be looked at as a spokesman for gay people, but when the population is scarce and uncommon, that's what happens. He didn't ask to be, just like I didn't ask to be, but we are; the difference is, I plan to use it to benefit the community.

As I continue to write and rant, I can see how my arguments can sound kind of weak and may seem like I'm picking at straws, but to me, that's what I see. It's what racist people see whenever they see that ONE black guy act obnoxious, and that's what bigots and ignorant people will see when they see him. No matter where we go or what we do, we are constantly being watched and constantly being stigmatized. It is our job to turn that into a proactive thing. I'm not saying to change who you are as a person, because trust me, I am far from perfect! What I am saying is watch what you do and where you do it, because it can sometimes be your footprint that people find.

That's my rant for the day. I'm still deciding on if I want to confront this kid publicly or do I want to do it gracefully and pull him to the side. The problem is that this kid isn't going to take me seriously unless I make an impact, but I have to remember that this is college and that things don't work out as easily as they should. Let me hear your guys' input, I'd love to hear what you guys think.

Enjoy your weekend,
~Be Breezy ~

Family Matters

I really do not want to get up and grab my psychology book, but I'm pretty sure that this title is a pragmatism in language, meaning that this phrase can be interpreted in two different ways. One way it can be interpreted is that family is important and will always mean something. The other interpretation is a situation that involves family, exclusively. Now, I addressed this to not only prove my consumption of information in my major, but also to make this clear that this post is about both. I decided it was time that I finally let out and gather my thoughts about how I truly feel about this family matter and how much this family matters. Hopefully my thoughts won't be too wild and hopefully everything stays pretty organized. I guess the best way to do this is to start from the very beginning. So without further ado, sound your trumpets, because King Kaseem is here to invoke the message!

As you may have read in a previous post, I met my boyfriend 6 months ago and we had dated all through the summer. It being the summer meant that I had a lot of free time. It was the summer of my graduation, of course I wanted to have fun! This was the summer that I believed was going to be the best because I didn't have to go back to high school and I was starting a new life elsewhere. Little did I know at that point in time that I wouldn't be attending WVU, but I did my best to enjoy the summer.

On top of it being the summer that I graduated, this was my first summer in a relationship. For that matter, it was my first time being in a relationship! Naturally, this would mean I was going to have a summer jam-packed with all sorts of events!  I was constantly going on dates and going to the movies and laying about, alongside working of course. Every day was another day to be filled with adventure, of course, unless my parents had anything to say about it.

All summer, my parents had been fighting me on going out at every possible chance. If I went out on monday, then it was a problem that I went out on wednesday. If I went out wednesday, then I didn't need to to go out for the rest of the week and into the following! This came across to me and any other person abstract because after all, I'm a teenager! For Christ's sake, all teenagers go out! All of them want to go do things in there free tine! Why would I want to stay at home and do nothing all day? That doesn't even make sense!

After the summer began to wind down, me and my family were just topping off our summer vacation with a cruise to the along the Mexican islands. During this trip, I had a great time. All the food we could eat, different sights every day, and some wild excursions from time to time. However, the trip did have its shortcomings when it came to excitement outside of the excursions. My brothers, cousins, and I were constantly looking for things to pass the time by, which was incredibly irritating. However, it was fun to spend some time with my brothers and cousins, for we are all hilarious together. And that's what this trip was about. We are the ones who all graduated from high school and we were celebrating it together as adults and away from our parents. Which in the end, led to an incredible change to my life.

During this trip, me and my brothers never spent time with my parents. We had never thought anything of it. We were old enough to do everything in our own and we paid for everything on our own! What could we possibly need them for? They did their grown up things and we did what we could in our age group. My dad made it very clear to us years ago that we can't have the same fun as them, so we let them have their fun just as we had ours.

We didn't do much with them because that just wasn't what we were used to. If they had asked, that would have been one thing, but they never did. They asked us for one night, which we gave to them, but beyond that, we did what we always did: our own thing. My family has never been the type to sit at the table together and have dinners or breakfast; it's just not something we did, ever. For this to all be a problem to my mother was a complete mystery to my brother and I because this had all been so natural to us, that it just seemed normal. We didn't have conversations with my dad because we just never have. Any time we did, it was a lecture, which we did not want to hear. Everything was exactly how it always had been, but to my mother, this was complete and utter disrespect.

When we arrived back home, she expressed to me and my brother exactly how she felt. Hurt, cheated, oucasted, all because we didn't call them or have dinner with them? I'm sorry, but we're not kids anymore. We are both in college and at that point I was a couple months from being 18, but we were still too old for that to be a legit excuse. We have far outgrown hanging out with our parents and wanting them to be with us. She knew this day was going to come and she cannot make the big stink that she is making about it now.

Sadly to say, this was still just the small part of the worst trip ever. During our cruise, whilst me and my brothers were on one side of Belize going zip lining, my aunt was on the other side of the island "outing" me to my mom. I hadn't even been there to stop it, but even worse, my aunt never even came to me to talk about it.

I didn't find out until the very next day when my cousins all told me, which at that point, it had already been too late. When we arrived back in the states, I asked my mom about it, and her response was nothing less than hateful. "How could you do this to us, we raised you better than this, just wait til your father finds out!" Etc. I quickly hushed her to hide it from my father, but when we arrived home, I never heard the end of it.

When we got home, my mom had this very long talk to me about how she felt. She let me know that she doesn't believe me and how hurt she feels and then the rest about how she felt about me and my brother. All I could tell her was that it was the truth and that we hadn't known what we were doing. But it didn't end there. Over the course of another two weeks, I proceeded to try to make my mother understand. I tried to let her in and be honest with her and tell her how I felt. I read my old blog posts to her, revealed to her my fears, and unmasked the love of my life. I wanted to let her know that I was tired of lying, and tired of hiding. I wanted her to know that if I were sure that they wouldn't have left me, I would have told them. I wanted her to understand what it meant to be gay and that it was nothing that what she had been made to believe. I wanted to let her know, above all else, that I was happy with my life. That I was gay and I was proud.

Unfortunately, she was not listening. She basically ignored everything I had said and focused one thing: herself. She turned it all about her and how it made things worse for her. She was complaining about how she doesn't have a relationship with her sister anymore, and how she's stressing because my dad doesn't know, and work, etc. ever since she found out, she had been badgering me and harassing me to admit it to my father that I was gay. Constantly, I tried to have conversations with her and tried to continue vein honest, which she responded with anger and more badgering. For those two months, I was panicking because I was in fear that she was going to tell my father herself and/or that my day to tell him was coming up. She would give me deadlines as to when to tell him and then tell me not to. I would be all worked up and ready, where she would tell me it wasn't the right time because he wasn't feeling well. One of these times, I remember we had a conversation through text, one that I could never forget.

My dad had just undergone his eye surgery and I figured it had been the perfect opportunity to tell him because for one he couldn't give me any judgemental looks, but he also couldn't cause any possible harm due to his handicap. I figured this was the safest way to go about this, but my mom did not agree. That night, I told my mom exactly how I had been feeling about what she had been doing. I told her she is stressing me out and she is hurting me. I let her know of how scared I was and that I was not ready, but she didn't care. She responded with "I don't care how you feel" and proceeded to give me a deadline to tell him. At this point in time, I had had it.

For months she had been blaming me for the disconnection between her and her sister. She had been blaming me for the stress she had been experiencing from work and my father. She had been blaming me for what she couldn't handle and I wasn't dealing with it anymore. At this point, I wanted almost nothing to do with her. I had nothing to do with any of that. Your SISTER caused the disconnection between you two! Your sister decided to run her mouth off to you about something she was not sure of and on top of that, had nothing to do with her. No matter what her state of consciousness was, she should be able to take responsibility for her own actions. If you can't control yourself after that many drinks, than you obviously so not need that many. If you can't be at least somewhat conscious while you are drunk, than you don't need to be drinking. When I'm drunk, I know what I'm doing and what I'm saying, And I'm only 17. If you can't do that by the age of 50, then you need to reevaluate your habits.

Before I proceed with the story, allow me to further discuss exactly my problem with my aunt. If you were drunk, why can't you admit that you were wrong? If you were truly not in the right state of mind, why do you feel the need to defend yourself and not apologize? Things would probably be a little better if she had apologized and admitted that she was wrong, but she didn't. She won't even acknowledge the fact that she did wrong, which does not sound like it was done unintentionally. The main thing is, it had nothing to do with you. No matter what you thought or what your position was, you had no right to out me. On top of that, how could you do that to someone, ESPECIALLY your nephew. You know what that's like, your own son is gay! You should know better than that, but you didn't care. And you don't care. So therefore, we have nothing more to say to each other.

After that night with my mom, approximately two weeks after that night, my mom again forced me to tell my dad and I had had it. I told her if it'll get her to leave me alone, than consider it done. After that night, our relationship was over. Just like my aunt, we had nothing left to say to each other. So what does this mean? Don't have a conversation with me. Don't try and Crack jokes around me because they are not welcome, and neither are your comments. From that point on, we are no longer friends. I don't want anything to do with you. What further frustrates me is both my aunt and my mother have this tendency to act like nothing happened.

About a month ago (from the present) my aunt calls and says hello and tells my mom that my brother and find I don't call her anymore. Let's get something straight. For one, we have NEVER called her to have a conversation with her. If we had ever called, it had to do with a conversation that needed to be had with my cousin. If we didn't call you before, then why the FUCK would I call you now?!  Number two, don't fucking say hello to me like there is nothing wrong between me and you. You ruined that fucking relationship about a month ago (when she outed me). My mom has the same problem. She continues to try and joke around with me and act like nothing happened. No. We don't have that relationship anymore. You don't care about how I feel, so by those odds, why do you care if I joke with you now? For two months, you had been rushing me and stressing me to tell him, so now we don't have that relationship anymore. If you have anything to talk to me about, you keep it short, sweet, and to the point. Other then that, stay the fuck away from me.

So that night, I ended up telling my dad, which if you have read my previous posts,  obviously did not turn out well. It was about a four and a half hour conversation of him basically telling me I am wrong for what I am feeling and him getting frustrated by the rebuttles that I had been making. I made it very clear at the beginning of the "conversation" that I did not want to influence him. I told him I don't want to make you change your mind or make you accept this, I'm just letting you know. By the fourth hour, I grew tired of his ignorance and decided to let him to talk out of his ass. But just when I thought that would be the end.

Two days from then, we have another conversation about the topic. In this "conversation," he agreed to allow me to ask questions that he would then answer, which in turn only frustrated me. By the end of this "conversation," he informed me that if I continued to see my boyfriend, he was going to call the cops. At this point, I was thoroughly disgusted. I didn't want anything to do with either of them. Everything that applied to one of them, pretty much applied to all of them. For almost three weeks, I hadn't said anything more to them than what they asked me.

I wanted to get even with them. I wanted to hurt them in a way that I would hope compare to the pain they bared on me, but it didn't even compare. What could possibly hurt more than being told that you are wrong, to break up with the love of your life, and to change you all in one hour? Especially by the people who are supposedly supposed to be your family and love you unconditionally, but that was not the case. I was blunt and very wort with them because I wanted them to realize that I was happy with what I was, and if they cannot accept that, then they couldn't see me. That happy go lucky guy that loves to laugh and shined brighter than the sun is proud of who he is and being gay is apart of that. All of my happiness and enthusiasm comes from my pride of me being who I am. If you take that away from me, then silence is what you get, because I refuse to hide me, but me can avoid you.

This did aggravate them, but only to mean another lecture on how being gay was wrong. My father proceeded to come up with more ignorant statements about what it meant to be gay, which I again refuted and again, ended in turmoil. What I got out of this conversation was that my method of staying silent and being blunt towards them was going to backfire. So I decided I'd just continue to be me and if they didn't like it, it was because I was gay. So what this meant was I could joke around with my mom again.

This created another problem for me. I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to have conversations again. I didn't want to let any of this go. How could I let up now? She'll think what she did is okay. She'll think it was just a phase that I just got over. I need her to know that that is not the case here.

I can't get passed that night. Those nights where she would constantly badger me of tell my mom, when she said she didn't care about how I felt and how she only cared about her own feelings, or how about when she didn't give my boyfriend the benefit of the doubt and allowed my father to make me break up with him. How could I ever just forgive that? Whenever I see her, all of that just comes back up, and no joke is able to repair that. For my father, the anger goes a little bit deeper.

My anger towards my father is a little bit different than my anger towards my mother. Me and my mother had a relationship that is now gone. So there I pain there from me. With my father, we already didn't have a great relationship, so all he was doing was pushing me further and further away. What aggravates me about them both is that they both insist that they know me, but if you look back, you really didn't, did you? My father whom has never had any part in my social life, now all of of a sudden wants to be apart of it because he thinks I'm corrupted because I'm gay. The only reason he would want to have conversations and talk now is because I'm gay. If I hadn't told him I was gay, he would have never wanted to have more conversations which in turn, would have left our relationship exactly where it is now: nowhere.

Who are you to tell me what's good for me? You don't even know me. You don't know what I like, my favorite color, or even my major. What makes you think you know what is going to make me happy? As a father, you can suggest, but you can't rule my life, and I don't intend to let you. What he is soon going to learn is that I was gay last year, I am gay this year. I was gay yesterday, and I am gay today. Chances are, I'm going to be gay tomorrow, and gay next year.

I don't know where exactly this entire situation will situate itself, but anywhere else has got to be considerably better than this now. As far as I know, this shit can't be pulled in the future. I will not stand for it. I will not hold myself back from certain things that will make me happy solely because they are ignorant and they do not agree. They have the opportunity to understand and accept this, or they can let me go and lose sight of what's really here. Yeah, we're family, but does family do this to each other? No. My real family accepts me for who I am in the hopes that I will be happy in the end. So let's just get one thing clear, I'm happy with who I am and where I am. If you don't like me, then we have nothing more to say to each other.

~Be Breezy~

The Public's Right To Know

Hey everyone! Sorry I haven't posted in a while, been super busy. But I have been thinking about what to write and what to say. So I haven't left everyone completely hanging. So here is today's post!

Back in my sophomore year in high school, I was in a GSA. In this group, we were making a project and teacher's names were thrown around to help us. I might have asked if there were any gay teachers, but one of the guidance counselors came up. The advisor of our club admitted to us that he was gay. I couldn't believe it, I was truelly astonished. But I couldn't believe it. I still had some misconceptions and stereotypes about being gay that I held with me and couldn't match any with him.

Later on that year, I heard rumors going around that he really was gay. I still couldn't believe it. So I asked him if he was married, which he replied, no I am not married. So again, I stood there in astonishment.

Once I had actually considered in my head that he was gay, I thought so much more of him. Not in a sexual way, but in a fascinated way. I wanted to know so much about him and his story, but I knew he wouldn't talk about it. At that point, I had been left with the idea of him being gay and never a sure answer. So I kind of forgot about it, but everytime I seen him since that year, it always crossed my mind.

I was at a point in my life where I felt like I needed a feeling of understanding, but I couldn't find the type of understanding I wanted from kids, I needed it from people of experience. I wanted to hear those coming out stories that I had watched all night sometimes in person. I wanted to hear that it was going to be ok from someone who actually knew. Someone who had been through it. Someone who knew exactly what I needed.

So a couple of weeks ago, a friend and I were hanging out after school and he came up. My friends said she had seen him with his boyfriend at a restaurant and they were holding hands. At this point I was pissed. Why? Because maybe a couple days before that, I told him about me.

I was in the office just killing time and hanging out as I normally do, and he happened to have had free time which he spent talking to me. Now, this man is not my guidance counselor. I had only known him because he introduced himself to me freshman year to tell me how phenomibal I was as a person. But anyways, we were just talking about our summers and what we did and just random conversation. After a bit of rambling, I brought up how I was planning to move out and why. Like I said, I came out to him, but in more words than it could have been said in. I didn't come straight out with it, I insinuated it; but any person with a brain could figure out what the hell I was talking about!

So when my friend had told me that he was gay, I was a little angry. I had pretty much laid my entire situation out to him and he couldn't tell me anything. I understand coming out is a hard process and a personal one, but if you know what that process is like, why wouldn't you try and help another coming out soul?

Only one part of me is a little peeved. The other part of me understands. If he is gay, maybe he isn't in a place where he feels he could come out and help anyone. But at the same time, I feel like if you're gay, you have a responsibility to help gay youth understand themselves or help guide them, or if you are in the same place, at least let each other know that you are not alone.

For years I had been looking for someone to relate to. Someone who had been in my position and could just give me a hug and let me know everything was going to be alright. All the weird conversations and weird feelings, they won't be there anymore. Even if they do happen to appear, they won't hurt as much because they aren't as strong as they used to be. That love was going to be knocking on my door. That my family wouldn't leave or react to badly. That I would meet many people like me that I could connect me.

This is an argument a lot of gay people have towards celebrities. One of whom was Anderson Cooper. Everyone knew for years that he was gay, but didn't have assurance and therefore, a lot of stereotypes hadn't been broken. A lot of those years, there were fights and campaigns he could've been helping fight and push, but didn't. It almost made it seem like he was ashamed of being gay. Him and all the other gay celebrities like Jodie Foster and Jane Lynch. Is that the message that you really want to send to gay youth? That your job is more important than who you are and what you stand for? That you should have to hide who you are because your job place isn't accepting of it? Yes, you will have to give some things up for work, but in a public position, you should want to help. Your coming out could stop that child who had been pushed to his last nerve and ready to jump realize that he is not alone. You could give that kid who felt like he couldn't make it as a reporter or a basketball player or a football player so he decided to give up on everything, the hope that he had been looking for.

Me, being who I am, decided to come out sophomore year. Not only because I was tired of hiding and wanted to find someone, but also to help tear down some of these misconceptions and stereotypes about being gay that everyone thought was true. I am gay and black. A lot of people expected me to be feminine, dress in women's clothing, wear make up, etc. But since I came out, a lot of people who thought that had their view broadened. Why wouldn't anyone want to help with that? It's not hard. All you have to do is speak up.

All I had to was admit who I was to people and then be myself. That's all you have to do sometimes. Sometimes, It's just giving a hug to help people. In this case, all you had to do was be honest. I asked him in the hallway one day in passing, but didn't come straight out with it and he told me he wasn't, but he knew people that were.

I felt horrible because if he wasn't, then I had been having all these mean thoughts and stuff about him for no reason and he had been doing exactly what I wanted, to be honest. But if he was lying, I feel bad because I made him worry about if he was doing a good job of hiding. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn't get up the courage.. I might have pushed his coming out further back than what it wad going to be. All because I was being selfish.

I had wanted help on who I was and wanted someone to relate to me, but I was so frustrated that I hadn't considered the fact that he was in the closet. I know what that's like, to try and fit in, but being seen right through as if you were a diary being hidden behind a window. To try and be something you're not and have it knocked right down.

But I still think in that circumstance, he could have admitted it because I had already admitted it to him that I was gay, so I could've related to him too. But what do you think? Should a person in the public eye have a responsibility to come out? Why and why not? I'd really like to know and all questions  and responses are welcome.

I hope everyone is having a great thanksgiving break and has happy holidays. Hopefully I could get another post out before Christmas. Right now this cub is off to work. Hope everyone is well! Take care!

~Be Breezy!~

Feeling defeated...

This is gonna be another internal post. Probably not too long because I don't really know what everything is until I get it all out. I hate expressing myself generally because it feels like complaining. There are so many people out in the world that are doing better than me. I have a pool, a big house, air hockey, my own room, a piano, a smart phone, etc., and I have the nerve to complain? But that's also why I started this blog. To get my feelings out there instead of always bottling everything inside and creating more destruction in my mind and hopefully not, my heart. So onwards!

These types of mornings pass me by every once in a while. Those mornings of just defeat. Where you feel like nothing has been going right or anything you want to happen is happening. Then you look for things that have gone wrong and let them weigh on you. It might be just me, I doubt it though. I feel a little spoiled when thinking about it actually. Throwing a tantrum because I'm not getting my way. But what's causing this defeat?

I couldn't sleep last night because I was so tired and sore that I kept twisting and turning. Then on top of that, I kept craving cashews. So no sleep. Then I bought my mother flowers last night. Just to tell her I loved her. What happens? She isn't coming home today. So now the flowers might not look as good by the time she sees them. Next, my mom gives us a coupon for the China buffet and I wanna go out to eat. The bros can't/ font feel like going. Everytime I try to make plans, they never work out because of that, but when everybody else wants to make plans, I'ma dick or It's my fault if I don't follow through. Same with six flags, I'm the only one tryna make these plans telling everyone to take off and they got a billion and one things. Next, there's nothing for breakfast. I planned on eating a steak sandwich, but there was only enough bread to make one.

With all that stuff going on, the only thing that comes to mind is, nothing is going right. Along with the terrible morning, I'm reminded that it is pride weekend and I can't go. I have to stay home and work... Closeted. I can't wear my rainbow bandana or suspenders or even buy ne a new pair. All over Instagram people are celebrating who they are and I can't. If nothing could go right this morning, why couldn't I at least be able to go to that?

It's also P-town this weekend. And all I'm gonna see is the big bear gatherings on instagram. How I missed out on all the insta meet and greets. How I don't get to party and drink. How I missed out on creating a bromance or brocubs or even a husbear.

On top of that, I'm reminded that I'm single. That I'm lonely. My bros have their girlfriends this weekend. They can kiss and act all lovely dovey and text all day while I sit in lonely despair. I have no cuddle buddy this weekend or anybody to share my happiness in the end of doma. Everyone else has got plans except me. Everyone's got somebody... Except me.

So now I get to eat my breakfast all alone, while watching digimon and get ready for another shift at work when I could be preparing for pride or even a good dinner tonight. Sorry for the story of defeat this morning everyone. I hope at least you're having a good weekend. Thanks for reading. Happy pride everyone!

~Be Breezy~