Sloshy Time

I've decided I'm going to do an experiment.  I'm going to live blog while I drink.  It's been snowing like a bitch, and I know I have no school tomorrow, so why the fuck not, right?  Let's see what a shit show this will be.

Drink of choice:  Classy boxed Franzia Chardonnay.  Unopened.  Mixing into spritzers, b/c rainbows shoot out my ass.

Time Commenced:  12:15, after doing a workout.

It's now 12:31 am.  and I've just finished my first solo cup of drink.  I'm trying to keep it classy here ladies.  I posted the tweet, "Why am I making wine slushies with snow?  Because I'm a genius."  That's the truth bitches.  I'm watching a dvr'd episode of tonight's Marvel's Agents of Shield.  I decided I wanted to get this out of the way first, because after I'd like to watch things that are more of a comedy nature.  Heading out to smoke and refill my cup (because my box of wine is on the porch so my mom won't find it. #superlame).

12:59:  I've been watching Agents, and something just happened that literally made my jaw drop.  Also, my second drink is gone, and I realize that wine slushies with snow are my best idea yet.  (Although, I was talking about an adult Easter egg hunt today that has jello shots in the eggs instead of candy, so I'm pretty sure that will win, and I'm throwing an awesome Jesus Resurrection party lol).  I have apparently lost the ability to do simple math, b/c one of the characters on the show I know from E.R., and I was thinking that she must be pretty old, but she is hot (and sleeping with the hottest guy on the show), so I IMDB'd her, and it said she was born in 1943.  While Dan was born in 1967 and I know he is 46, somehow I couldn't wrap my head around it, and had to do the math on the calculator on my phone...sheesh

1:30.  Agents finished.  I've moved on to @mignight.  It's not my favorite show, but sometimes I like the comedians.  I literally just followed one tonight, and sent him a tweet telling him that I'm following him just b/c he's so hot.  I'm texting a friend that is a night owl and apologizing for my last drunk texts about Dan...and how I thought I no longer was in love with him.  I'm feeling a bit wobbly, and my 23 year old self would like to come and slap me in the face for feeling this way after not even finishing my 3rd drink yet.  Luckily, I type well, b/c there would have been a lot of spelling errors in here.  I'm assuming later tonight my backspace function will cease to endure.  I feel a tiny bit of anger brewing in the back of my drunk, but I'm trying to ignore it.  I'm trying to not be angry anymore, but it's so hard, because people ARE FUCKING ASSHOLES.

2:03 It's about to be time for my 4th drink to be gone.  I've been making jokes, they funny.  I'm going to move on to funnier things, wait, I mean like watching them.  I'm still texting my friend.  I thought my school would be cancelled tomorrow considering IUPUI is closed tomorrow, and my campus in Columbus is closed as well.  Being that my school is in the midst of them I fucking ASSUMED, but who knows.  Oh well.  I like when the tv is on b/c it keeps me out of my head.  I swear if there is a little moment of silence, I go places I don't want to go.  Test.....Ok...I took a minute and just listened to my heating system.  It sounded like it kept saying hellsbreak over and over.....that took me back to Purdue...and the sex pit on the blow up mattress....and then AH...don't think about that againg..it's not ok.  sigh....drink up and make another

2:17 I made my fifth drink.  I told my friend i'm texting one of the worst things that has ever happened to me in short form, and she's not responded.  Kathy Lee and Hoda are playing in the background...I'm trying to move passed it.  My mind is just thinking if it will ever be truly happy again.  It's been a long time.  My back hurts so bad from my workout.   I don't want to focus on nthe negative things, so I'm gonna so watch some Archer.

It's 2:39....I'm watching Brooklyn 99....so fucking funny.  I have to rewind it most of the time, either to relaugh, or to watch what I missed while I was laughing.  Kind of realizing what I am doing is pretty sad.

2:56: Seriously....I love that show.  I am about to watch New Girl, which isn't really my bestest b/c I hate Zoe Deschanel, but I still watch the show somehow...I quite for a while, a friend made me finish.  Drink is gone. going to drinki 6. I'm guessing....but now I know I'm right reading up.

It's 3:09 I'm watchin Archer...my vision is blurred.  I hate that I'm but what I don't hate that I'm getting this drunk this quick.  I just wish..........I , oh god....we're talking ab
out wishes....I'm going to Aladdin.....If I had three wishes.....One would seriously be to have a great body, and I have a man who I want to look like....no, he's not a celebrity.   and to be honest, as come wishes to myself, that's about it....most of my wishes would be for others.

3:13: My friend who is pregnatn just messaged me on FB.  


345..................I may be drunjk....sure. i miss all of y0u realiing this jis stupid.  crap.  I likke this shitp.   Ohk, hod on, it's over.  but

11:41am.  I just woke up.  Apparently I blacked out.

I Know Why I'm Fat.

Over the years I've always had to fight a battle with my weight.  I know many people cycle from skinny to fat, although it's unhealthy, but for me, it's just because I'm losing the fight, or gave up on it.  All throughout primary school I was always chunky.  My nicknames were plenty, but the one that always stuck about was "Bubble Butt."  Not necessarily the worst of names to be called, and especially not since in the gay community, this is often quite seeked for.  (Trust me...no damn joke.)

It wasn't until my sophomore year of high school that weight became a constant part of my daily life.  After being the slow "chunky" kid on the tennis team the year prior, I decided that no longer would I be picked on, and no longer would I not be able to keep up in distance runs or sprints.  That summer, I dedicated to learning how to eat right, and exercising frequently.  Finally, it was the beginning of the tennis season, and finally I was in shape enough to stay next to my friends while we ran...even being able to hold a conversation.  

I continued on this journey throughout high school, almost to the point where I was being accused of an eating disorder with my family.  My senior year, a stature of 6 feet tall and weighing under 155 pounds, the doctor did, in fact, tell me that I was underweight for my height, and that I could quit working so hard.  The hope that I was just growing into my body, and perhaps I would always be a tall slender person was what everyone else thought, but they weren't me.  They didn't know about how I secretly threw away all the candy I received for holidays, how I never ate dessert that wasn't merely fruit, or how I had forgotten what a damn french fry had tasted like.  The outside, with a rock hard 6-pack, glowing skin, and radiant blonde curls were what people saw, yet I saw a fat person, too afraid to be shirtless in a photograph.

Then the depression hit in college, and as I no longer cared for life, I no longer cared for my body.  I mean, I went on a damn rampage.  Burritos as big as my head weren't even enough, even though I was probably soaked in 3,000 calories worth of alcohol, or, let's be honest, probably more.  This is the cause.

This was the effect.  I ballooned up to almost 265 pounds folks.  That's more than a 100 pound weight gain.  In my height range, the most I should possibly weigh is 188 pounds.  I was definitely obese.  Somehow I'd gone in 2 years from wondering how I could eat an entire meal to wondering if one value meal at McDonald's was going to be enough food.

My confession: I have an eating disorder.  My name is Zachary, and I am a binge eater.

Granted a while back I lost 80 pounds and got down to a healthy weight and finally was able to go off my blood pressure medicine, I've now gained probably 30 pounds of that back.

...and I know why...

Today I stepped on the scale and was shocked to see it reach past the 200 mark.  But let's take in what I had to eat yesterday.

Soup, 2 salads and chips and salsa at Chili's and a Cantina bowl from Taco Bell were my meals.  Not all that bad...though I shouldn't be eating fried food.

Then comes the problem...night time.  While catching up on some television, I had half a box of macaroni and cheese, 12 chicken nuggets, pickles, olives, half a bag of wheat thins with 6 pieces of cheese and more olives on them.  Most of this happened after 1am.  NOT GOOD.

So I've decided I'm going to try and give up fried food and dairy.  I'm allowing myself chips and salsa at mexican restaurants and that's it.  It's ten til midnight and I'm already having severe cravings for food, which I will log on here.  I'm allowing myself to have a salad with some oil & vinegar dressing as to deter from the dairy.  More to come.

12:23: I've now had my salad, and before it's even digesting, my mind is reeling...I want olives.  I want cheese.  There's ice cream in the freezer.  I want something sweet with butter on it....lots and lots of butter.  There's muffins in the pantry.  My salad would've been better with cottage cheese on it.  Ice cream...mmmm....

12:39: I'm well aware of the chocolate M&M's in the candy dish calling my name...and I don't even like them.  Not only is it dairy, but it's pure sugar.  I opted on a Lifesaver to suck on and hopefully subside me.

1:14: I decided to have a peanut butter sandwich on an 80 calorie thin bun.  Hopefully the protein will keep me satisfied.  I aided the swallowing with a glass of milk (because I fucked the whole no dairy thing at dinner) and am now chugging water.

2:20: My stomach has been rumbling since the peanut butter.  I'm not quite sure why,  but maybe it's the digestion.  It held me over for quite some time, but now I'm craving meat.  Turkey may be in my near future.

2:40: I've eaten some turkey.  Straight from the bag...lunch meat turkey nothing else.  I think my hunger may have subsided...We'll see.  Also, I'm taking a sleeping pill, so maybe that will help.

3:24: I've given up for the night.  I don't feel so horrible about what I ate considering it was mostly vegetables and protein, but still not a win.  Yawn, g'night.

I Love You as Much as I Can

"I love you as much as I can."

I found this written three times continuously on a napkin at work.  I thought it was sweet, yet when I showed it to my coworker, she said, "That actually seems kind of sad."  

After thinking a moment, I disagreed with her.  I'm not sure I've felt real love in my life.  Sure, I've looked people in the face and told them I loved them, and only once was that returned, wait, maybe twice, but never was it sober.  Maybe it's cynicism, or maybe it's growing up, but I know people move in and out of your life.  

Getting older, as a gay man, I've always wondered why my elder gay friends have little to no girl-friends.  As I've aged, it's gotten clear to me.  We are placeholders.  When girls don't have dates to parties, we are the stand ins.  They clearly don't think of us like this, but when it happens, it does happen.  When my used-to-be best friend Joy asked me to stand up for her in her wedding, I was so excited and felt so appreciated to be her friend.  Cut to 3 months after her marriage when I didn't hear from her again.

Girls may say this will never happen, but it's happened to me many of times.  Bobbi invited me to live with her after her engagement ended to fill the void, but once she met Dennis (her future husband), who was in our apartment 6 out of 7 days of the week, it changed.  I brought it up to her once that I was a tad annoyed that every time I came home from work he was there using our computer or television, inhibiting me from what I wanted to do, she kicked me out of the apartment.  Perhaps the final statement from me to her was that, "You're kicking me out because you finally found a guy who will stay around and actually fuck you."

My current girl-friends may say it til they are blue in the face that will never happen, but I know it will.  Currently, I went to a concert with my friend Melissa, but this is only because her boyfriend couldn't get off of work, so I was luckily on standby.  Yes, we had fun, and will continue to have fun because we love each other and all that barf stuff, but when it comes down to serious commitment, weddings, children, marriage, etc.,  stuff along those lines will become barriers to our friendship.  We'll keep the idea that we will be friends, but eventually our lives will become so separated by  diapers, clubs, boyfriends, new lovers, car seats, etc, that we will no longer have things in common. 

Now, it's not that I'm judging, but there is a part inside of me that harbors jealousy because those are things I will never have.  Trust me, not like I want those things, but I don't want to be denied them just because of my lifestyle.  Or the choice I've made to live, according to Republicans.  

I love my sister dearly, and try to love her children, even though they are demon spawns that ruin everything, but there is always a part of me that is jealous, and believes that my parents love her more because she is "normal" and giving them what they want: grandchildren.

I will never give them that.  Not necessarily because down the road I couldn't picture having children, but because I couldn't ever trust a man to stay with me in the long haul.  I'm not even sure if gay marriage became legal if I would do it.   After my parents fucked up their marriage, and their children, I just can't picture myself ruining another person the way I am.  

After taking a moment to think, I almost retracted what I said, but digress.  Brittany and I seem to be the female/male version of one's self, but I know if she found a man to love her, fuck her, and want to marry her, I'll be off on the way side.  Yes, I may be in love with a man, but I do not force him on people.  I am a firm believer in having friends, and then having a lover.  Yes, at times, they cross, but all the time?  No.  No one should spend that much time together.  Megan spends every day with her lovers and then moves on to a new one.  Well, perhaps if they had time apart, it wouldn't happen like that.  I've been seeing Dan for a year and a half, and I cannot spend every day with him, but perhaps it's because I'm not a female.

I just wish people understood more that friends are here forever.  I've had plenty of girlfriends leave me to be with their "one," but when it's ended they've come back to be my friend.  Maybe it's a fault of mine that I keep accepting the comeback, but I try to be a nice person, even though I am not.  Lovers come and go, but I will always be here.  If you find a man that enters your vagina more important than the friendship we've shared prior to that insertion, then I should be a prouder person and not allow you back into my life.  

I love my friends, but it may just be as much as I can.

The Day My Life Won't End

The other day I was prompted to, as happens quite often, delve into all my shit and throw things out.  I would classify myself as completely the opposite of a hoarder, whatever that may be.  Lack of emotional connection to inanimate objects has always been a thing for me.  Sure, this blanket was given to me by my now deceased grandmother, but it's old and tattered.  Replace and move on.  It doesn't mean I'm disrespecting or demeaning any value she gave my life; it means I have my memories, and the moments in time spent with her that shaped me who I am to remember, not the basketball team blanket she gave me for my whatever'th birthday.

During my clean out, I came across something rather interesting and almost disturbing.  Now it is not infrequent that I find things that I have no memory of writing, but this was different.  Yes, it was what appeared to be a poem, but not in the usual form of writing, nor on a generally accepted writing surface.  On a crinkled up old, seemingly scrap piece of paper from class, large writing in bold, bright red ink reads as follows:

I'm sorry for the pain I caused
I leave this place with no applause
I'm saddened as I contemplate
My heart is blank an empty slate
I'm sorry but I must go
No more feelings can I show
I deadened that I cannot cry
Even when I say goodbye...

Yeah. YEAH.  I'm no scientist or anything, but I'm pretty sure that's a suicide note.  What the hell?! I thought to myself.  When did I even write this, or when did I even feel this horrible to incite such writing?!  I was in such shock and awe that I just stared at this paper in my hand for what seemed an hour until my mother walked in and I replaced it back in the door in shame.  I cannot believe that at one point in time I was weak enough to actually consider taking my own life.  No situation in your life is ever bad enough for that to be the logical solution.  Sure, I have thought to myself that it would just be easier to die than to deal with what I'm going through, but that's what DEALING is.  You deal, you move on, you grow up.  

Now I've had to deal with a lot in my life, even recently.  I hid things rather well when I want to, but to some it can still be pretty obvious.  While I was still having fun sometimes and being myself, plenty of people had witnessed my alcohol induced breakdowns.  Let me tell ya folks, being unemployed is not the tits.  Having to rely on your friends to have one morsel of fun in the cookie of life makes you feel like such a loser.  Pile on top of that being in love with an insensitive, past-dwelling, ex-boyfriend controlled man who strings you along....and well...I kinda lost it a few times.  Mostly in the privacy of my own home, but it did creep out a bit when the alcohol had lubed the hinges slightly.  

Never, though, NEVER is it ok to kill yourself over love.  Fuck Romeo and Juliet.  They knew each other for like 4 days, a week at tops, and you know what that week gave them?  Death.  At the beginning of it Romeo was all being a whiny bitch about some other slut that wouldn't love him.  Screw that.  I don't care if I'm with you for 27 years, that is just the lamest thing ever....Life is for you to live, but it's yours to live, and you share it with others.  They should feel lucky that you are, in fact, sharing it with them, so if they decide to tap out, that's their damn problem.

In any case that you may feel like ending things is the best option, I encourage you to reach out.  I'm assuming I did as I have no recollection of this letter, but if you can't be brave enough to reach out to a professional, at least reach out to someone.  Reach out to me...even if I hate you I'll still help you to live just so I can hate you longer.  :)

The Wanted

I want to write in this damn thing so much, but I'm so overwhelmed with nerves right now that I can't focus long enough to sit here.  Future posts promised though.  The wrongs I've done, what you mean to me, the insanity we call monogamy, we're all liars, and I'm sure here in a few weeks, how once again I'm alone.

The Stupid Side of Happy

(Preface:  I wrote this while drinking some wine, so if there are grammatical errors, go fuck yourself.  I don't want to proofread it.)

Last weekend I was alerted to a particular piece of information with which found myself unprepared.  The man I am currently infatuated with found out that his younger sister has succumbed to the amount of cancer in her body, and no longer chose to fight.  Not ever having been in a real relationship, let alone one with such serious situations, the next course of action was about as clear to me as seeing in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico.  My stance on death is quite skewed.  I know we are all going to die, and I have no great delusions in hope for the future, thinking that science will find the "cure" to my ailment, let alone any others.  I don't feel it appropriate to say that "I'm sorry," because I didn't kill her.  The cancer was not a product of my doing, so I find the only words thoughtful and decent enough for me to say is, "that sucks."  I know it sucks, and I know that if I apologize, it's not going to help.  Nothing said to someone grieving really helps, and those damn sympathy cards just make it worse.  People do say strange things in death, even those who don't believe in the afterlife tend to make some stupid ass remark like, "She's in a better place now."  Fuck off.

The best thing I felt to do was just to simply be there.  Be there to comfort if needed, to be hated if needed, to get drunk with if needed, to hold if needed, or just to simply sit there in silence with them.  Welcome to the next 8 days of my life.

The return into town brought me to his apartment shortly before our annual "Labor Gay" party.  Occurrences from the prior week had me wrapped with worry for what lay ahead at this party, so I offered the option to go to a bar for a little liquid courage.  Everything is better when your sense of caring is lubed.

The party did, indeed, turn out to be a blowout of crazy.  It was if the 1970's had ended halfway through the party, and in the midst the 80's were born, and the idea to tease our hair to crazy happened....and oh...was that hair big.  While the events occurring did not involve me, the clean up of it was, which is another story all together.  I digress.

Labor Day consisted of meeting up with his older brother to start planning the funeral.  Sustenance was needed, so we had to leave to eat, and Dave (the older brother) told us not to return without liquor.  Cut to me drinking with the 3 brothers reminiscing about their dead sibling whom I'd met once, and quite frankly I thought she was a bitch.  I suspicion she didn't think that I was a good match for Dan because of my age, or maybe she was just suffering from the repercussions of chemotherapy, but I sensed no warm feelings coming from her.

At some point later that evening, whilst I was not a midst, the decision had been made to go out for drinks.  Of course, if anyone is to know me, I'm not going to say no to this.  Metro had welcomed us with open arms, and the booze flowed and flowed.  I've been making an attempt to....

Wait...I need wine.

quit smoking, and luckily for me, Dan's elder brother smokes, so I would sneak a cig with him.  The night starts to haze like memories of elementary school, and I sit an witness Dan doing his famous escape act.  At some point in drunkeness, he decides there is nothing better to do than to leave....leaving me stuck with his sibling from Michigan whom I'd met 8 hours prior.  

Dave asked what we were going to do, and I replied that from my experience with Dan, he was to go home, pass out, and not wake up to buzz us in.  This is where one of the worst decisions in my life was made, to go home with Dave.  If we could reference Seinfeld, and just yadda yadda yadda the specifics, let's just say shit went down with Dave and myself.  I did, however, tell him I would not have sex with him because I was in love with his brother.

Eyelids slowly creeping open, the trickle of sunlight through the yellowed, dusty blinds awakes me with fright and uncertainty.  For a brief moment, the knowledge of my whereabouts and who I was next to was unknown.  As if I'd obtained a mushroom in Mario Bros, the memories came surging back faster than a teenager's first ejaculation.  Shame and self-loathing crept across me as I reached to awaken the naked, (still cute) older sibling of my current lover to ask him to return me to my rightful place.  

Talk about an awkward car ride.

(I feel this wine is making me too type-y)

Arriving at Dan's, ease settled over me, especially when I saw the half full handle of Captain Morgan sitting on the counter.  Simultaneously, without even consulting each other, we made drinks.  He asked if I thought the fact that we were sitting in bed together at noon drinking cocktails was a problem, and the response forming in my head was, "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

A tragedy had then struck.  The bottle of Captain was deceased just like his sister, and it was only 3pm!  Certainly a trip to CVS must be made to buy more, this time for the Captain's redheaded stepbrother Admiral Nelson.  Drink, drank, drunk.

Time flies by with booze and body parts combining.  Suddenly, time slows until the sound of all the clocks in the words slowing to a stop is bombarding my ears when I hear the words, "I love you."  A jolt runs down the middle of my back, and something gay like Katy Perry's "Firework" seems to be playing in my head.  'Did I really just hear that?  Did that just happen? (Am I stoned and think an axe murderer is trying to break in my house?)'  

"What?"

"Zachary, I love you."

Without response, or knowing quite why, my face is moistened by a heavy flow of salty, dehydrated tears.

"No, you don't."

"Zachary Keith Fleming, I love you."

.....

"But, why?" is my response, sounding more rude and repulsed than I ever thought could happen.

"You're kind, you're loving, you're attractive, you've always been there for me, and you're the type of guy that any man would feel lucky loving."

'Jesus Christ,' I thought.  He actually fucking means this.  These are the words I've been waiting to hear for sixteen goddamn months, and I cannot even revel in the magic of them.

"I hooked up with your brother...." I whisper...

He pulls away from me with a loud, "WHAT," and I respond as quickly as I can reaching out for him.

"We didn't have sex, we just made out."

After a silence that seemed to last longer than my 27 years on this Earth, he replied that he didn't care, and he still loves me.

Tears streaming down my face at a rate that quite surprised me, he continued to repeat himself, until I finally could pull my face up, eyes locked, with a slight whisper that almost seemed painful, "I love you too."

Truthfully, I've never felt an embrace that felt better than the one following that statement.  We moved to bed, yadda yadda yadda'd, and wrapped up tight inside another, I fell asleep with the most security and safety I've ever felt in my life, and at that moment, I realized what all those sappy love songs were about.  As if Katy Perry lit her fireworks off in my head, and the knowledge I've never known once before was finally bestowed upon me.  A moment written in time that I know will never be forgotten.

The Silence

I've just been so overwhelmed with emotions that I've been unable to write in fear of what I would say.