Me, Myself, and I

I’m not pressed.

After a few years of searching, too many dates, and even more well let’s say discretions, I’m done with looking for a relationship. In fact I don’t care anymore if I’m in one or not. In my early twenties I used to see gay and straight people coupled, break up, and repeat this never ending cycle. It seemed that everyone had been in a relationship; even the biggest whores I knew tried it, all except for yours truly. I started to think well is something wrong with me, why haven’t I been in a relationship yet. Was I too shy, thought of purely as a jump off, inhabit the permanent wrong place at the wrong time, looking too hard for love and not letting love find me. All these thoughts and many more culminated in strengthening my determination to be in a relationship, if nothing else than to experience the trials and tribulations necessary for human progression, or so I thought.

I started to change myself, and help “cure” certain things about me that I thought were hindering me from being in a relationship. I went out and bought books that taught you how to speak to anyone about anything, how to open up lines of communications, and how to attract people to you by the use of your personality. Then I went to functions, gay functions to meet use the skills I learned to see how well I had done in the application of such tactics. Book clubs, volunteering for DC’s White Party, gay volleyball games, house parties, birthday parties, networking events, church functions, and just out and about. After every such event I would replay the events in my mind while driving, or taking the metro, giving myself a mental grade, which usually was in direct correlation with the amount of conversations I started or participated in. I usually scored low.

Then I started to set my sights first a little lower, then a lot lower. In the beginning I wanted someone who was emotionally, mentally, and physically together, or in the process of working towards it. Someone who out, preferably a man of color, and someone who I was attracted to, and who was attracted to me, was my “type”. Soon after my only litmus test was attracted to me, which was very dangerous. I met a coke head African, a Cancer survivor who had kicked out his lover of 15 years 3 DAYS before I even knew him, a Marine with Iraqi War syndrome, and guys at Bally’s who suffered from one mental ailment to another.

Concurrently I began to think well maybe I have a reputation of being easy, (in retrospect me having a reputation in DC would be hard to fathom considering how the kids act) or I’m sowing my wild oats with people who would be interested in me but I am “too easy”. On some level I rationalized that I had said I wanted to be with one person, but my actions spoke differently. So I became celibate, for 8 months, never having sex and I felt that I was sexually “pure”, and that maybe this was just what I needed to do, open up my heart not pull down my pants. During this time, I went out with guys, we had dates, we had fun, but just as if I had sex with them, they fell by the way side sooner than I expected. So my celibacy ended, not with the person who I was engaging into a LTR with, but rather at a sex party. I called up two of my friends, and I cried.

To some degree I even think that my wanting to be in a relationship was a driving factor in me wanting to move. At the time, I felt as though I had exhausted the amount of datable men and that Baltimore, and with grand illusions of me traveling to Philly and NYC, had much better prospects. I will say this, the men in Baltimore, and the men in Philly tend to be nicer, down to earth, and generally easier to get along with. But, well beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and for the most part this beholder don’t see it. I mean, jagged teeth, finger waves, knock off Fubu, it’s a bit too much for me. So yes I moved, but to a city where I know no one, and actually have no real motivation to go out and meet new people, explore my surroundings, at all.

So where does this leave me? Here, right here, typing on a laptop on my way to work realizing that I’m happiest being alone. I’m rarely lonely, and when I am, its not really for a bed warmer but the company of my family and friends. I’m happy being alone, I like who I am, and I have more fun dancing around my house, enjoying the music blarred up, cooking up a storm like its Thanksgiving dinner, and more just because, well I can. If someone comes along, sure why the hell not, but if Mr. Right never does, I never will worry. I’m no longer pressed.

It's Me BITCHES

Lenny Dorsey here again, the last time you all read what I wrote was when I talked about relationships and love. But now has come the time for me to formally introduce myself, hi I’m Lenny Dorsey. Periodically, that’s once in a while for the slower ones, I’ll be making a posting or two. Like Wise&Young, I live in the DC metro area, but I wasn’t dumb enough to move Bmore. Went to school at the REAL HU, work for a public relations firm, and have been in the life well since, damn, well since for as long as I can remember. Grew up in South Carolina, my mom who’s hella afrocentric you know the Erykah Badu, head wrap crew somehow ended up having me with a Jewish guy from NY. So yea I’m one of them mixed up bi-racial Lisa Bonnet, Lenny Kravtiz kids. But getting back to this blog the tops will be dependent upon my mood, and what’s happened in my life I will blog about whatever.

Now that the weather is changing, and daylight savings time approaches, of course the kids want to start dating someone for the fall, because after a summer and spring filled with romps in the park, party circuit, and et al. So now the A4A profiles change, those who met dateable men during the spring and summer, call them up to see if they are still available because they are ready to settle down. Out of these seasonal unions a few survive and turn into something worthwhile for both parties. But the majority end up as nothing more than warm body to come home to and provides the comfort of a consistent fuck buddy. Do I sound bitter? No, I’m not bitter at all. But I am a fervent believer that there are two types of Queens, the ones who settle down into comfortable Long Term relationships or the ones who are always on the move.

I’ve come to resign myself that I am one who is always on the move, not the settle down type. I used to yearn so hard and tough for a relationship with any semblance of a good person that I ended up telling myself be taken advantage of, compromising who I was, and biting my tongue until I nearly chocked on the blood that poured from my tongue into my mouth. During this stage in my development, I say development because I think its important for everyone to try it, even if you’re not a settle down type man, just to know that its not for you, I was stood up 14 times, dogged out 27 times, and lied to countless. Before you all start running to type oh its where you were meeting them, and what type of men they were, that’s bullshit. I dated lawyers, doctors, gym bunnies, introverts, extroverts, people I met on the street, people I met in the gym, people I met on the subway, people I met online, and people who my “friends” tried to hook me up with. All with the same shitty ass results. It wasn’t until a year ago that one I woke up and decided, “FUCK THIS SHIT”, fuck these antiquated notions of dating, love, and 2.5 kids. I’m gonna do me, and whomever I want to whenever. It wasn’t until then that I haven’t been so happy. Now when fellas try their game, I cut it off, and let them know I’m not having it. When I get those sporadic texts, phone calls, or other means of communication from someone who I haven’t from in months I call them on their shit to. The times I want to fuck, I let the other party know what the deal is, that I don’t care about them, how they feel, or what they are going through I only want to fuck. Most are taken aback, clutch their pearls and try to act holier than thou, but that façade quickly passes and they accept and revel in it.

I know some queens who have read the “Secret” and countless self help books anre going to shake their head at me and think oh what a shame, another wayward child. But fuck that shit, I’m happy. Happy with living a life filled with joy, free of drama, and without the bullshit that comes with those who play your emotions like a novice guitarist picks at the strings. I have a question for those queens, when was the last time you were truly happy? When was the last time that you could look at your life, and see how you have made it better than instead of letting some pop psychiatry dictate what you should do and not do? Have any of those books help land you a partner? Or are they saying you’ll get one when you’re ready. Well the Fireplace, the Mill, and every club, bar, bathhouse, and cruising spot are places where your predecessors end up, bitter, thirsty, and alone. I’m not saying you have to life your life like Lenny Dorsey, but live your life the best way you can, not the best way someone else told you.