31. James Wants You

I strongly believe in this saying: “Treat others the way you would like them to treat you.” Perhaps there’s a more eloquent way to state that. But perhaps I ate way too much chicken alfredo and I’m in a food coma. And perhaps I’m struggling to eavesdrop on my neighbors yelling at each other in Cantonese because Rick Ross is also screaming beneath my window. (I don’t mean to be a honky but I have counted the n-word three times already.)

I also believe in this: life is too short. I don’t have enough time to do everything.

You will upset someone whilst trying to please everyone.

Let me get to the point:

Tell people what you want. I am trying to incorporate this more into my life. It’s difficult. I understand that. And conflict is scary. But what’s scarier is living with a million things unsaid that are just bouncing around inside of you until you explode one day because of something small: “BITCH, WAITRESS, I SAID SCRAMBLED EGGS NOT OVEREASY! FUCK, HOE!” We don’t want that. And “fuck hoe bitch waitress” doesn’t want it either.

I know how it feels to not say what you want. It’s actually kind of painful. Kind of really painful in the way that I feel like a pushover. Some people like to say, “You’re too kind”. I would love to believe that. I think I’m kind. But I think I’m also a bit of a doormat that people wipe their shoes on… except that I smile while they do it. When I don’t get what I want I tell myself whatever I need to in order to pacify myself: “Choose your battles.” “It doesn’t matter that much to me.” “This is healthier.” “I don’t wanna ruin Fuck-Hoe-Bitch-Waitress’ day.” “Runny eggs are more artistic than scrambled eggs.” And sometimes I really don’t care. Sometimes I compromise because I really want to make someone else happy. But sometimes I actually really want something. And I just swallow that want and say, “When it’s something I really really want, I’ll do something about it.”

But that’s not good. That actually makes me angrier than not getting what I want. Because then for the rest of the day, I will call myself rude names. “Coward”. “Pushover”. “Pussy”. And I’ll say, “You’re gonna die unhappy if you keep this up. Is that really what you want?”

NO. No. It isn’t what I want, Mr. Rude Inner Monologue. I want to be happy. So. How does that happen?

Say what you want.

No one will ever read your mind. Miss Cleo was your best bet and now she’s in jail for a bad Barbados accent. So you’re shit out of luck. Say it.

Instead of trying to stomach the disgusting runny yolks of eggs sunnyside up, say, “Excuse me, I actually ordered scrambled eggs. Thank you so much!”

Instead of going to McDonalds and looking at a chicken nugget cross-eyed so it looks less like vomit and more like yummy terds, say, “I actually really want Indian food. Let’s do that. Do you mind?”

Instead of being snippy with someone you really care about, say, “Hey, I’m sorry if I snap at you. I have a really bad headache, I’m really stressing about packing and I’m scared of everything.”

If you had a really bad day, ask for a hug. If your back really hurts, ask someone to give you a quick rubdown. And then ask them to massage your back. (HEYO MASTURBATION JOKE! I MAY HAVE EXITED PUBERTY IN THE BODY BUT NOT IN THE BRAIN! BOOBIES ARE FUNNY!)

Say what you want. Or else you are dooming yourself to a life full of disappointment and unfulfilled expectations. Maybe you’ll blame your friends, but it’s not their fault. How can someone fail to give you what you want if they never knew? If you never give people the chance to follow through that’s your fault.

Also: no more speaking in code.

Before I left WI to come back to NYC, I was having a hard time seeing all my friends. Permission to speak candidly? I have a lot of friends who don’t hang out in the same social group. So I spent a lot of time trying to make everyone happy around me. And I kept getting this: “If you don’t have time for me, I understand.” But it didn’t feel like that. It felt like, “I really wanna see you, and I’ll be sad if I don’t see you.” But why don’t we say what we mean??

Because life is scary. And it’s risky.

When someone asks you on a date and you say, “I’m busy, maybe next week” you better mean that. Cuz otherwise you’re giving that person false hope which is more rude than saying what you really mean, “I’m not interested in you in that way”. Or, “I’m really invested in this other guy.” And when you’re seeing someone and you lose interest in them, don’t say, “I’m really busy this week”. Say what you mean, you f*ckin’ cowards. Say, “Hey, I was really horny when I met you. My boner thirst has been satiated. Aloha.” Say, “I’m a douchebag that’s incapable of feeling human emotion, and I don’t know how to attach. I’m sorry.” And when I confront you, don’t say, “…I was sick?” You deserve to have your dick chopped off cuz you’re a sorry excuse for a man. Just tell the fuckin’ truth.

When you break up with someone, just do it. Sugar-coating might be nice in theory but it’s really harmful. Cuz if there’s one thing that hurts more than heartbreak, it’s a bottle of heartbreak followed by a shot of hope. Just say why you needed to break up. Do. Not. Give. False. Hope. Just cuz you wanna be a good person. That makes you a shitty person. Because you told lies to someone so you could sleep better at night. Sometimes people suck. There are times in my life when I have sucked. Sucked REAL bad. And I had to go to bed knowing that I did a shitty, shitty thing. And I lost sleep over it for a good week or two. But I made up for it. And I know I’m not perfect, but I’m definitely not as assholey as I felt then. Being an honest asshole is worse than being a lying asshole. Cuz if you lie to me, I’ll never know what you really mean. I’ll always think, ‘He said this but maybe he meant that”. Life is full of uncertainty. The least we can do is tell the truth.

When you wanna know the answer to a specific question, ask it. Don’t beat around the bush. Don’t ask a generic question in hopes that the person will magically read your mind and answer it. Chances are that the other person KNOWS the question you’re not asking and they will purposefully NOT answer it. So. Ask yourself, “Do I really want to know the answer to this question?” If so, then ask. Ask, “Are you seeing someone? Is it serious? Are you over me? Do you ever think about me involuntarily? Is it really over? Are you sorry?”

And most importantly: say how you feel.

“Hey, when you talk to me like that it hurts my feelings.”

“Hey, when you use my first name like that it feels really condescending.”

“Hey, I was really upset that you bailed on our plans.”

“I love you.”

“Hey, I get really anxious when you’re not here.”

“Hey, I really, really miss you.”

“Hey, I really want to be taken care of.”

“I’m scared.”

“Hey, I want you to be my boyfriend.”

It’s hard. Life is really hard. It’s hard to put yourself out there. Saying how you feel is like eating an entire strawberry cheesecake on your own: you don’t know if you’re gonna feel better or worse after you do it but you’re pretty sure you’ll feel worse. And it’s really hard to put your feelings out there, cuz you don’t know how the other person is gonna respond. Starting a conversation is easy, because there’s nothing at risk. “Hi my name is Booger, I’m a friend of Spackle. What do you do for a living? Oh my god, I don’t know what that is but you smell like cash so I’m gonna keep talking to you!” You have nothing to lose. But saying, “Hey, I can’t stop thinking about you. Lying in bed without you is like lying in a padlocked coffin underground except my room smells less like worms and more like the Tostitos crumbs that I’m definitely lying on. I like you too much and I don’t know why,” is hard. When I say, “I wanna be with you. And I wanna talk about you all the time and show you off to the world and laugh with you all the time,” I don’t know what you’re gonna say back. You might say, “Yes yes A MILLION TIMES YES” or maybe you’ll say, “I don’t feel that way,” or maybe you won’t say anything. Or maybe you’ll say, “I can’t.” And all of that hurts. It hurts if you say “no”. It hurts if you say “maybe”. It hurts if you say “yes”. It hurts if you say nothing. Because I know that everything ends. If you say “no”, it ends now. If you say, “maybe” it doesn’t start or end and my heart makes this face: . If you say nothing, I say nothing but my heart keeps asking my head again and again until I drown it with cholesterol and dairy. If you say yes, it’s still gonna end. Maybe it won’t work. Maybe we’ll break up in a month because we’ll end up in different places. Maybe you’ll move (on). Maybe we’ll get married and then get divorced because you can’t handle the way I refuse to look at the negative side. Maybe we’ll get married and live happily ever after for 60 years, but then right after the words “The End” you’ll die of Alzheimer’s and I’ll wish I would die of heartbreak. In any scenario, I’ll have to live without you. (Even if I die first, I’ll have to know that I might leave you alone some day which would nearly kill me anyway so I’ll tell my fragile heart to push that thought out of my labyrinthal mind.) No matter what you say in this instant, this whatever will end. Maybe in 1 week. Maybe in 3 months. Maybe in 9 months. Maybe in 3 years. Maybe in 60. It will end. And I will be sad. For a while.

We like to think that when we leave someone’s life, we leave a huge cater inside that other person that they have to spend months reparing. We like to think the damage we have done is irreparable. We like to think, ‘They still think of me.’ But it’s not always true. My heart, like Celine’s, will go on. Scientists say that the liver is the only human organ that can regenerate, but I have proven them wrong over and over and over. I’ve given my heart to someone that left. But I wasn’t left with a crater where my heart once was. My heart regenerated. It healed over the open sores. And my heart isn’t the same as before; it’s better. It’s stronger. It knows what it wants, and it knows what it won’t put up with. Yes, it hurts like a motherfucker uponst a motherfucker uponst another motherfucker.

But at least I can say that I put myself out there for someone I really cared about.

And I’m doing it again.

And I’m not giving up. I don’t know if that makes me a headstrong romantic or a blind, pathetic fool. But I do know that it makes me brave.

I want to be with you.

James.

(Read below picture.)

(Nothing is smart and nothing makes sense. Living is stupid if you’re gonna die someday. But I wanna be stupid. With you.)

30. James Teaches Gay Culture: EXPLICIT

Ok. I have been steeping heavily in the theatre community for the past 2.5 months, and I have learned some disturbing thing about ignorance within and surrounding the gay culture. It is very frustrating, but I have chosen to educate with patience instead of getting mad at people for their ignorance. If this comes off as a rant, I am deeply sorry. I sincerely intend for this to be eye-opening and enlightening. I hope you have learned something when you’re done with this.

First. Let me start with humor:

Fleeting
 If you are going to put a D in your B, you need to buy one of these. It’s an enema. Let me be frank: if you’re having sex (ladies and mens), you really don’t wanna poop on the bed. And if you DO, if that’s a fetish of yours, by all means, BYPASS this advice. Crap away. But if you are terrified during anal sex and you can’t stop thinking, “DON’TPOOPDON’TPOOPDON’TPOOP,” never fear: this is your solution. This is how you should use it:

Empty it out. Don’t use the solution in it. You don’t need it. Unless you’re actually constipated. Empty it, and fill it with warm water. You only need to fill it about halfway. I’ve read some things saying that you don’t need that much water. And I’ve also read a lot of things saying it isn’t healthy to use it every day. This is foul, but I read about it drying out the natural mucus that your anus secretes…. WHO’S HUNGRY?!?! ME, TOO!

Ok. So take that turkey baster contraption and put some lube on the tip or something. Otherwise it SHAN’T be pleasant. If you don’t have lube, I think it’ll be ok to use just a little bit of unscented lotion. NO BATH AND BODYWORKS SCENTED SHIT. THAT. WILL. BURNST.

Ok. Then. Um. STICK IT IN. JUST RAM IT IN. I’m totally kidding. Say a prayer to Jesus (he’ll listen in this time of great need), squat over the toiley and slowly slide it in. It helps a little bit if you’re kind of pushing like you’re trying to… shit. (Let’s be honest, the time to be coy has passed by a LONG SHOT.)

Squeeze all the water in. (This should be half a bottle. And it should be warm. But not hot. Just… pleasant.) Now. You should wait a little bit while it’s all inside of you. Maybe wash off the bottle. Disinfect it with some alcohol. Jump up and down and do some cartwheels to make sure all the water is swishing around. …Totally kidding about the last part. But you can read the box that the enema came in! It’s quite fascinating! I DISTINCTLY remember this phrase on the box, because it has been seared forever into the walls of my fucked-up memory: “Wait until the urge to evacuate is strong”. I laughed really hard when I read that, and I evacuated all over the floor. I’m kidding, but I did laugh really hard.

Ok. After you have “evacuated” take a baby wipe (preferably a “Flushable”) and clean yoself up, bitch. Flush. NOW GO PARTY. Some people say you need to do it more than once. But. I think as long as you normally wipe, once will be good enough.

OK. Now that you have puked in your mind or quite literally from your mouth, let’s get down to business:

Sometimes I hear some ignorant questions. But if you are not a gay man or you are an inexperienced gay man, then I can’t really blame you for not knowing the answer/ not knowing that your question is offensive. A good friend of mine recently asked this:

“So, is one of you the boy and one of you the girl?”

I responded calmly, because the question wasn’t meant to be offensive. It was earnest. So here’s my answer:

We are actually both men. I think being gay is all about equality. The cool thing about being in a homosexual relationship is that there are no preconceived gender roles. We’re both dudes. So neither of us is expected to curse and fix cars while the other cooks and cleans and dusts. We just fulfill the needs of the other person. I’m a pretty clean person. I don’t mind washing dishes. I’m not good at cars, but I can sure care for my man when he needs it. When one is sick, the other cares for them. And sex is sex. There are no boys and girls in my sex cuz neither of us has a vagina. (I know; many of you who really know me are shocked that I have no beaver, but I promise I don’t.) Which sort of brings me to my next point:

Top  vs. Bottom
Ok. If you think this is gay terminology that describes who is literally on top and on bottom during sex, you are wrong. This is what it most specifically means:

A top is someone who fucks someone, and a bottom is someone who gets fucked. I know. So vulgar. So. Sososososo vulgar. I apologize. But here’s the problem I have with this:

You are no less masculine if you take a dick in your butt.

For some reason, I’ve met a lot of gay men who are ashamed of their sexuality, especially if they’ve ever bottomed. Listen. A REAL man takes a dick up the butt. You know when people say, “Take it like a man!”? They’re talking about anal sex! I promise. Anal sex isn’t like a walk in the park. Unless during your park strolls you regularly fall violently and unexpectedly on a penis. I’m just kidding. It doesn’t have to be awful. But I’ll be honest with you: if you are a gay man and you refuse to bottom, you need to let go of your shame surrounding being gay. There is nothing shameful about being gay. And even if you don’t bottom, you are still sticking your peepee in a dude’s b-hole, which still makes you gay. There is no degrees of gay. You can’t be “really gay”. People say that. But if you’re gay, you’re gay. And if you’re F-ing a dude, you are JUST as gay as the dude that you are plowing.

Listen, I strongly believe that equality is the prominent theme of homosexuality. We want equal rights. Our relationships are about equality. And in that same vein, in a relationship I don’t think there should be a “top” and a “bottom”. I think it should be about versatility. After you’ve tried both, I think you can have a preference. Absolutely. But. Gays: don’t pigeonhole yourself; Republicans will do that to us enough.

I hope you learned something today. Here’s my most important lesson:

Let go of your shame. Acknowledge it. But let it go. Don’t let it inhibit you. People frequently call me “extremely gay”. But I don’t care. I just wanna be me without worrying about what people think of me. I have a Lady Gaga belly shirt. Perhaps I’m challenging people to call me out on it. But YES. I AM GAY. GAY GAY GAY. And I don’t wanna be ashamed. So don’t make me feel ashamed. I know that “no one can make you feel anything without your permission”. Yeah ok booshit. Admire me for my courage to tell the story of myself with my whole heart; don’t chastise me because of your own shame. Just stop caring what people think. And do what you want. You’re not gonna live forever. I know few things but I know that for certain. And I don’t have time in this life to live my life within the confines created by someone else’s ignorance. I wanna wear a bright pink. I want to wear girl’s clothes cuz they’re bolder. I wanna wear a huge peace bangly necklace. I wanna wear my Lady Gaga belly shirt. I wanna wear my skanky underwear. And I REALLY wanna wear my “Likes Boys” tshirt.

I don’t wanna hide.

I refuse to hide anymore. If I don’t fit in this world then so be it, but I will no longer change myself to fit a world in desperate need of a change.

This is not a compromise I am willing to make.

“Sometimes the only way is jumping. I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”
~”Meaning” by Gavin Degraw

JAMES.