To Trivia I Go... Or What A Group!

Once a week, I hang out with a group of guys and we compete in a brain-testing game of trivia.  I enjoy their company and have been wanting to write about them. I decided it was time.

First comes the disclaimer... I can't write about everyone in the group!  I just don't know everyone that well. So don't be all judgy if you don't read about yourself.  I've decided to write about the ones I know best... Or at least I think I know them... Hmmm... Maybe I don't know them... Maybe they'll become offended by what I write...  Ha!  Oh well. They'll just have to spank me... No wait.... I better rethink that.  Anyway...

Okay, back to the ones I know best...

First, there's this couple I like to think of as Little Cub and Papa Bear.  They are so cute together.  I've known Little Cub the longest; in fact, he was the one that invited me to trivia.  I've seen him go from very heart-broken to finding the love of his life.  However, at trivia, Little Cub can get pretty annoyed when we agree on one answer, then debate it and chose another, then find out we should have gone with the first choice. We really should have listened to Papa Bear...  He knew best when he said Monet. I can picture this pair together, snuggled up on the couch, watching a zombie-infested world go by.  They're so in love.  They make me feel hopeful that I will find that someone who will think of me more than just a "wham bam thank ya ma'am".

Now there is this one guy...  All I can say about him is...  He can be such a Gloomy Gus!  Look here Gus... Here's what I've got to say to you. "Be happy.  Don't be bitter. You're attractive. You have friends who care about you.  And yes, we know you're a loner.  But don't be so hard on yourself. Just remember you make other people hard..."  Or at least that's what I overheard. He reminds me that everyone has walked rough paths and we need kindness and lots of beer.

Of course, I can't forget the one I think of as "The Matriarch."  He reminds me of the type who sits and watches and evaluates.  You know like Maggie Smith on Downton Abbey.  I could see him in one of her big brimmed hats. With his white beard.  Sipping tea. I'm sure he would have nothing but nice things to say... Maybe. And don't even get him started on politics. He's pointed out that "orange" is truly the new black...  Or I should say "black-hearted." That's why I like him. His views encourage me to keep in touch with what's going on in the world.  And that there's a few things that after you've touched them, you'd better go and wash your hands.

I've heard of couples where one is outgoing and the other is quiet.  There's a pair that makes me think that is true.  And it appears to be the case here. One seems to be introverted.  For some reason, I regard him as a wise sage. I suspect if I needed advice on anything, he should be my first choice to ask. His partner, on the other hand, appears to be the extrovert.  Always smiling.  Always laughing. And always looking kind of... hot...  Well, to be honest they're both hot.  Okay, I'll be even more honest if they wanted to, I'd let them "take me down and pass me around"... I'd be happy to be their 99th bottle of beer on the wall...  Hey, I've got to stir in a little controversy into this.  They show me that great relationships do happen and that I shouldn't give up hope. And periodically check the expiration dates on "the supplies" in the night stand drawer.

Well, my post has met its limit and here I must stop. So much more I could write.  Maybe next blog post...

CSM

On Being Gay... Or Would You Like Sex with That?

Being gay sometimes gets me down.  I don't see it as a curse or a disease or a punishment.  It's part of who I am, but it's not my entire world.  I've filled my life with so much more that just my sexuality, like writing stories that I store on my computer but never try to get published.  There's my expensive Lego habit.  My Disney mania. The love of Ethel Merman belting out everything's coming up roses... Okay, yes, I know, but I didn't say I wasn't a stereotypical gay.  I just said that it gets me down.., And yes, listening to The Beauty and the Beast soundtrack does get to me.  It's Angela Lansbury...  But I digress.

But there's that one part about the gay lifestyle that grinds my ax.  

I get really tired of feeling like all I am is a piece of meat for oversexed a-holes who think that's what being gay is all about.  First, good for them.  I'm glad they have a lusty hobby and I'm glad they found meaning for their lives.  What I'm not glad about is when they tell me that I'm the a-hole because I won't pleasure them.  I'm avoiding graphic detail, like describing what they want to do to me.  I actually had to look up a couple of terms... Those S&M guys...  Oh brother!

I have only one response for these guys who won't take "no" for an answer...  "Go fuck yourself, honey. I've got better things to do."  Since being back in the dating scene, I have said this a lot.  

On my dating app, guys will send me unsolicited pics of their... well... you-know-whats and their you-know-wheres.  And trust me, I've got my new canned response... "Thank you for the pics.  I will assume that you are showing me your true personality and that you are a dick and an ass.  Thank you for being honest up-front. Sincerely, I'm-blocking-you."

I'm sorry but I think this so-called world of gay hook-ups isn't that great.  In fact, the guys I know who do a lot of hook-uping seem to be the most self-abusive. But if we consider the old saying "You are what you eat..."  

They also seem to have no self-worth or low self esteem. They sleep around with guys that turn them on at that moment then simply move on.  I recently had a crush on a 20-something who told me that he had already been with 50 guys... and apparently counting.  I'm 47 years old and not any where near that number.   I can't help but roll out the sarcasm by saying "Gee, there's something I'd like to be remembered for.  Not things like I loved all my friends and cared about their well-being.  Or that I wanted to teach people about history and how it got us where we are today.  And god forbid that I be remembered for my caring nature."

Why would someone want to do that -- just sleep around?  So, I asked, read a few reports, gathered information, slammed back a very glasses of Riesling and drew up a theory.  Please disagree with me if you like... but I've decided that most gay men are just like dogs.  They only want to sniff your behind. And my response is "Get your damn nose out of my butt."

Over the past few months, I've kept swinging back and forth between the realization that I'm going to be single the rest of my life and the complacency of  just giving in and fuck around since no one gives a shit about the fact that I have a life.  

Once, I met this kind of a nice guy who just wouldn't let up.  He wanted to... you know... go "downtown"...  He finally wore me down.  I simply gave in, dropped my pants, and said "There!  Knock yourself out!" Guess what his response was... "Well if you're going to be a-hole about it..."

It gets old so fast... No wonder I have a "Why Bother" attitude... Sigh.

CSM

My Eulogy... Or Don't Wait Until the Last Moment.

The other day I was thinking about making a will, who to leave stuff to, and what do I want to happen to my body... My flabby pasty body.  But even more, I wondered what I would want people to say about me.  So, I decide to write my own eulogy...  And here it is... Or at least part of it.... I may have more to say... And now here it is...

"When Christopher Marshall was born, the entire country celebrated his birth with fireworks... Well, okay, it was the Fourth of July, but who cares.  Christopher was definitely a Yankee Doodle Dandy, which he often sang "Yank my Doodle, it's a dandy."  He always had a way finding the dirty alternative.  He relished the world of double-entendres.   Regardless of his lewdness, he tapped his way into the world and never stopped.

He loved to entertain and make people laugh and smile.  I mean who wouldn't forget the time he dressed up as a nun and went bar-hopping.  And who couldn't forget about the time he helped that old lady across the street only to find out she wasn't an old lady who didn't want to go to the other side of the street.

Chris had a way about him... An honest way.  Too honest... He didn't really need to agree with Penny when she kept saying she was fat.  He was just being honest... "It felt like Godzilla approaching the city," he would say.  He always pointed out stray pink curlers.  He offered free and very useful advice like make sure that it's a pineapple ice and not yellow snow.  Or how about "Don't go away mad..." And he always loved it when people complimented his behind.  When he walked away, people often said "What an ass!"

He loved deeply.  He cared deeply.  He wanted to kick people in the balls. He loved so hard and so much he wanted people to feel the same pain and he figured that would be the best way.  And trust me, if he didn't care, he would let you know with a hearty round of a tune he called "Fuck off motherfucker and don't let the door hit you in the ass..."  I wish I could remember how the tune went, but I was quite a showstopper and toe-tapper that a chorus line could really kick to.

I will tell you this.  He believed that death wasn't the end, but just another beginning.  He believed that he would wake up and find himself in his own Heaven, filled with what he always wanted in life, including but no limited to, an unlimited pass to Disney World, time to spew all of his fictional stories into print, and win that Academy Award (where he can walk across the stage naked and nobody laughs.)  He truly believed that it doesn't end here.

I was there to hear his last words... "I loved too hard, over thought everything, and I accidentally farted during an organ recital one time, but nobody noticed. They must have assumed it was a D-flat and was part of the song."

And I was told to tell everyone his last three words...
"So long suckers!"

CSM