The Ballad of Michael Valentine

Today is the most sacred of made up holidays.   And this year it is falling on a Saturday.

If you haven’t gotten your dinner reservations made yet, be ready to break out the white belt and shoes, because you’ll be going to the Early Early Bird Special.

You’ll be back home by 5:30p.  Lucky you.

VD means nothing to me, or us.  There might be a card, but if not, it is not the end of the world.  It’s no biggie.   We’re certainly not fighting the crowds to go out – even if we did pre-plan……..which we didn’t.

No doubt I’ll hit the gym today and then maybe a matinee movie.  The former would keep me in condition to live to see another VD, the latter, well, that will keep me on track for my one movie per month deal I’ve got going in my head – even though we always lose that deal before end of the year.

I don’t have to ask him to ‘Bee Mine’.  He already is.   He ain’t going nowhere.    …..at least I don’t think he is.

Song by: the Killers

Passionate Kisses

How long do you go without kissing your significant other? How often do you do it in the first place?

This is possibly the longest period of time I’ve gone without smooching with Denton.

It’s not relationship trouble, or even travel schedules. No, it is still this cold sore – hopefully the end of it. I mean – why expose him to that? Isn’t it bad enough he has/had to look at it? Catching it from a lip lock hardly seems fair for either of us.

Normally, I would say we kiss before one of us leaves for the office and at least once getting home – or before going to bed – or both. But at this point, it has been about 10 days with out any macking.

I think I’m at a point in the next day or so I’m thinking we can put lip to lip. I’m almost back to normal.

Almost.

Song by: Lucinda Williams

My Funny Valentine

 Yes, it is that time of year. The Hallmark of all Hallmark holidays. The one that preys off your guilt of not saying ‘j’adore’ enough. Pfffffffft. Fuck that.

I mentioned not needing a day to say those three words. If you do – it is kind of a sad state of affairs. But that being said, it seems to be the most popular of my posts in terms of people searching and finding my blog. Mind you – they are searching for a Ralph Wiggam valentine card (“I Choo Choo Choose You – and there’s a picture of a train on it!”) and get this queers blog, but T.S.

…well, it’s the most popular in the last few weeks. Seems everyone is in that seasonal mood….or mode. And no one says Valentine’s Day better than Ralph.

This year I’m spending it away from my sweetie. I’m not too broken up about it – and I don’t think he is either. It’s not due to lack of love. It has more to do with not need THE day to do or say it. Sure it is nice to kind of celebrate it, but I can do that on the 15th, when I get home.

In the meantime, there are emails, text messages and phone calls to convey the love. And any discussion quickly turns to what the cats are up to. I guess that’s what 2 decades of love gets ya.

But as the song says, he does make me smile with my heart.

There are a thousand people who cover the song….but honestly, I do love the way Rickie Lee Jones does it the best. Harder to find, as it was on a short-lived EP called Girl at her Volcano. I highly recommend it if you can locate it.

Song by: Rickie Lee Jones

Mad About You

I don’t know what happened, but last night I just melted down.

It couldn’t not really have been over undelivered pizza – but that was clearly my breaking point.

We had a decent day of looking at granite and then visiting one of my sisters.  She has a new kitten and well, I just cannot not go visit that.  I also love her dog, Petey.

For those who do not know, picking tile for our last house could have caused divorce, or at the very least,  justifiable homicide.  That bitch, Nancy Grace would have even let me off the hook with a, ‘yeah, he had it coming’ comment.  So looking at granite could easily have been putting me back on the singles market.  Ya just never know.

So the evening plan was to go out for a nice dinner.  But that plan go downgraded to ordering in pizza. Already we were off on the wrong foot.

I should have known – and even said – that when ordering went so smoothly, something would be fucked up.  We live in a place where the best delivery folks could never find us.

Naturally we order when we’re already hungry and know it will be a 45 minute wait to actually get the food – so the cards are stacked against us.  Or at least me.

75 minutes later, no delivery, so we call.  There is no record of anyone putting in the order.  I’m breaking.   The bf almost almost almost lets them off the hook because they give us a $20 credit on our next order.  BFD.

Personally, I want the asshole fired – or worse.  He remembered the conversation and the order, but has no idea whey it is not in the computer.  A major mistake of the partner at that point is – “let’s just make something”.

At this point it is pushing 9p.  From going out to dinner – to ordering in  – to making dinner, I am finally broken.  …and I act out.  And I know it.

I throw on my work boots and say I am getting the fuck out of here.  I’ll assume I was acting irrational enough that I was not even attempted to be talked down from this….or reasoned with.  He was probably smarter than I was – but let us not kid ourselves – I was hoping to be talked to, so when it did not happen, just sent me that much farther over the edge.

I did indeed hop in my car and leave….with no direction.  When I worked at a hospital, I had a place to go to 24/7.  I don’t have that now.  So I drove blasting music in my little car.  It helped.

But I also ended up at a frickin’ bar too: downing more than a few Blue Moons, listening to and watching bad music. Then just watching some guys play pool, while I silently mapped out their ill-fated shots and knowing the ones they were designating to sink were the wrong ones.

I had all their problems figured out – why not mine?

song by:  Belinda Carlisle

My Precious

As I alluded to a week or so ago, I shot-down the idea of getting an iPhone for my birthday and that something was coming along that was better (as if!) and would last longer (probably true).

The man and I got ourselves rings. Ok, so technically it was not a present for me – but it kind of was. I wanted them….not just mine. A wedding would be nice, but not quite doable in Ohio….or 48 other states for that matter.

I’ve said it before, I would be into a wedding for the jewry (as Mitchell would say) and cake. Not necessarily in that order. Oh – and the ability to have a say in each other’s healthcare and not to be taxed on inheritance and receive some tax breaks that married couples might. Blah blah blah.

Years ago we got matching like rings in Key West – for $16 a piece. You kind of get what you pay for. They were ok and I wore it for years – until I lost during a drunken evening (I know – you’re shocked!) where sub-zero temperatures let it slip off my finger all too easily. I even remember hearing it hitting the ground, but not realizing it was my ring making that sound.

At first I thought I wanted platinum, but it’s quite pricey. And it tarnishes! Who knew? I also like tungsten and titanium – which were quite affordable. I mean Jon accuses me of not putting a crowbar in my wallet enough – and don’t even start him on the time I thought I found a quarter in a gravel parking lot……after sundown. I can’t help it.

But after I was told that many instances, an Emergency Department cannot get tungsten and titanium off if need be. They are very sturdy metal and difficult to cut off, if it ever came to that. I had immediate visions of someone using a nutcracker to break my finger off – or worse – having Gollum biting my finger off to get the one true ring.

These rings aren’t any of those metals nor is it the $16 material we got in KW. These are palladium.

The jeweler asked if I had ever heard of palladium, but I got a blank look back when I said ‘yes, it was a nightclub in New York’. It turns out to be a precious metal they used to mix with white gold to make it….well…..white. And keep it that way. Apparently they do not use it in white gold anymore and now use it on its own.

I got over the idea years ago of needing to have matching rings. If people need to know we’re together, they can look to see if we have a joint checking account or if both names are on the deed to the house. So I have the thicker, brushed metal band, he has the thinner shinier one.

I suppose we could have held onto the rings until we had a wedding or commitment ceremony. But I think it probably would have come down to IF we have one. And it turns out that David & Duck are beating us to the punch and stealing our thunder anyway! They are looking for rings and want to be married in Provincetown in a week or so. (Seriously though – good luck to them…..not that we were technically invited. Fuckers!)

But the piece de resistance had to be who our jeweler was: Little John. Yes, from Big Chuck and Little John fame (whom I kind of wrote about a few months ago).

Let me tell you, if the camera adds ten pounds to you – it must also add 12 inches. He’s a little shorter than he looks on TV – and kind of like one of the tellers at Gringotts.
Seriously though, he was extremely professional and nice. …and not a laugh track in sight.

We are thrilled with the rings, and yes they have inscriptions on the inside and not the out…..mainly because I didn’t know elvish.

It’s Been a Long Cold Lonely Winter

In an instant our lives can change – sometimes for the better, but usually not. It really is how we deal with these situations that determines who we are and how strong we find ourselves to be, or become.

This was affirmed when my partner and I found ourselves out of work for the last five months (eight for him). It is what one might call a make or break of any relationship.

This is where nerves split and fray. This is where too much time together under duress makes one start plotting murder. Times like these tests one’s mettle.

Believe it or not, there was a time where this could have killed our relationship. I have had a temper and can hold a grudge like no one’s business. Not even Sarah Michelle Gellar. (Get it?) There used to be times when we’d have altercations where I am sure I acted out and acted immature. I can’t tell you how many times in the past that I’d storm out of the house and go to my office. It was a good thing for a number of years my area operated 24/7. The days that followed would be me giving the silent treatment while I pouted. I was good at that. Really you might want to see Rebecca’s 3/26/07 blog entry which only vaguely references me! (”I’m not thinkin‘ nothing’”.)

But really, that was years ago. …at least the storming out and silent treatment. I can still pout like no one’s business.

The maturity one gains over a 20 plus year relationship can be pretty amazing. These last eight months has probably been the biggest struggle we’ve faced – including all the health issues I’ve encountered over the years. I am proud of how we stepped up to the plate and supported one another accordingly with nary an argument. When one was down, the other would pick them up and vice versa. We never were too down because we knew we had each other – and no matter what else happened, that would always be enough.

All I can say is – we passed the test. I’m not sure which test or who the proctor was, but we get an honours level grade.

a companion piece was originally posted on Gay Men Rule (which no longer exists).

You Better Work

Oh RuPaul – you have an insightful comment for everything!

For those who aren’t aware, my partner was downsized last July. I was much more upset about it than he was. For him, it was a great relief. He likened it jumping a sinking ship. Not like a the recent events that has everyone plunging from Carnival Cruises.

In reality, he was pushed – but I got the idea: he didn’t go down with a disaster that was the company he worked for. Going to a start-up was risky, but together we agreed it would be good for him to do something daring and new. And in the months preceding his end-date, we discussed if he should even stay since we both knew the venture was struggling financially.

What we didn’t see coming was a month and a half later the outplacement of my position in an organization I had been with for 11 years.

The original plan was for me to keep up his spirits while he did a job search. Now it was more of a see-saw thing – or could have been. It’s been a tough eight months – but it could have been so much harder.

Me finally getting a job, while he was still looking, could have been bad, as men has much more fragile egos than we ever care to let on. But we really rose above it and he could not have been happier for me. Yes, I took a substantial pay-cut when I didn’t have to, but the work/life balance is leaps and bounds better than anything I could have imagined. In retrospect, being let go to take my new position was probably the best thing that could have happened. But that’s easy to say now.

Now it is his turn. Layed-off a mere eight weeks or so before I was, he’ll now start a new position a mere eight weeks after I started mine. Neither job is where we thought we’d be. It’s a completely new direction for both of us. But things come together and for the better.

We’re excited and thrilled – not (only) because of the jobs, but due to where we are, how we got here and from what we are now capable of going….together.

..and for the record, one Mr. David G chastised me for being a dark cloud back at the first of the year – but he was the first person to say to me: “geeeze, isn’t there anything wrong with your new job?” Who’s the dark cloud now?????

a companion piece has been cross-posted to Gay Men Rule.

VD

“..the card says ‘Please Bee Mine‘…and there’s a picture of bee on it…”

I’m a Ralph Wiggum in a Bart Simpson world.

Say what you want about Valentine’s Day, but the time honoured tradition of the slit cut in a shoebox to receive cards from your classmates is a very early indicator of your social status for your entire school career….if not beyond.

Yes, everyone was supposed to give cards to all class members, but it rarely worked that way. Early on, we gave to select friends and people we wanted to have as friends. Be deemed unpopular by one person and you could be on the road to Obscurityland. Or worse – Ridiculeville.

Invariably, someone would do the heavy sigh/moan that Ralph did. Usually, there were wasn’t a Lisa to take pity on you and slip the obligatory card into your box. It was social darwinsim at its most primal. (I love hyperbole, don’t you?)

For those of us who figured out their sexual identity somewhat early, Valentine’s Day is pretty much of a non-event…especially if you ended up at a same-sex high school. I doubt very much Gene Staiger would have appreciated a card slipped into his locker from me.

As it stands now the day means nothing more than a Hallmark/FTD event. The BF made me a handmade card a few years ago that meant more to me than most anything I have ever received.

Let’s face it – if you need to set aside one pre-determined day per year to say ‘I love you’, you might need to re-examine that relationship.

We say it everyday – and mean it. …but V-day is always a good excuse for a nice meal.

The More You Live the More You Love (or so they say)

Nothing says ‘love’ like A Flock of Seagulls song.

I missed it…..our anniversary. Completely spaced on it.

Denton is the one to forget…usually. He remembered. I’m chalking my lapse up to cold meds, or just distraction from a job offer.

It’s odd – but how do gay couples decide on their anniversary date? Even couples in MA or Canada probably don’t consider their wedding date as their anniversary date – do they? Most of us don’t have that marriage option so we pick an arbitrary date to signify ‘being together’.

We I picked it in retrospect. It was the night we pretty much first spent together, where we then proceeded to be with each other for months on end. Yeah, I’d go home to my scary efficiency, but we spent a lot of time together – and not just because we worked at the same place. BTW, the first night wasn’t some booty call (omg…I can’t believe I just used that phrase). Though it was unplanned in a sense, we had worked up to it for a few months.

Morty & Jon might be quick to point out that we took a break. Yes, we did. And yes, technically it was for a few years. But we never lost the closeness. After moving in together, and then apart, I would be at his apartment for things, or he would key into mine on his way home from his 3-11p shift. So whereas some might not count it as continual 22 years together, Denton and I do. Even IF we didn’t – it would be 17 years. Not too shabby. It was one of those things that was meant to be, even when we were living apart. If Iran can talk themselves into the holocaust not happening, I can certainly look the other way regarding a few years not living together.

So last Sunday, 22 (or 17) has came and went. I don’t know we would have done anything special had we been proactive about it, but we might have. Ahhh…we’re just waiting for 25 (or 20) to do something special special. Yeah……that’s it.

On a completely unrelated note, I woke up with the Tubes’ “Talk To Ya Later” playing in my head. Ugh. What’s that about? What a horribly bland song!! Do you remember when they did fun stuff like “Don’t Touch Me There” and “White Punks on Dope”? Then they had to do shit like “She’s a Beauty”. Anyway, I can’t even tell you the last time I heard “Talk To Ya Later”….besides this morning….in my head.

now i know i have a heart, because it’s broken

What can you say about a fourteen-year-old cat who died? That she was beautiful and brilliant? That she loved rubs and singing, Pounce, and her dad? (ok, I completely lifted that entire intro – kind of – from Love Story.)

I am sure I’m biased by saying she was the best cat ever! If not the best, she sure ranked up there. I actually drafted this earlier and it sounded eerily familiar. I looked back and I wrote much of our history w/Kylie on a post on 5/8/06 – her 14th bday. I’ll try not to repeat that post – but feel free to go back and look at it.

She was one of the cutest kittens I had ever seen. That is she, against the brick in the top picture. Her little ears not as perky as they would turn out to be. Her colouring darker than what would it eventually be.

You can get a better idea of how she’d turn out by the bottom picture (her in the middle). Her pattern was gorgeous – down to the black tip of her tail, the one black bottom of a paw, and two black whiskers in a sea of white ones. (click on images to make them bigger!)

I know cats are supposed to be aloof and independent, but most of the time Kylie wasn’t that way. When we moved into the new house a year or so ago, instead of hiding (which is what Tovah did), Kylie followed us around the house. We actually gave her a tour. She was much more comfortable w/her new surroundings.

She loved being by us – though she liked her alone time. She was the cat who could sleep anywhere, and would (see below).

Any of the bedrooms were fair game. Any couch or chair was hers. She loved sleeping under a desk lamp as Denton worked all day long. She loved the warmth and being next to him. But she’d just as easily sleep in the output tray of the printer and she would on something soft….and usually would hit the ‘test’ button in the process. I’m not sure how many wasted sheets of paper we went through due to her naptime. It was all worth it.She (along w/her sister) made our house a home – and us a family. We got up in the night when they were ill. We worried about them and wondered what they were doing when we traveled. We’d watch them play, eat and sleep as if they were our children – which is really what she was.

Kylie was the silent alpha cat. No fights. No hissing. She just WAS. Tovah had a cat admirer (Smokey) with whom she’d have rows. She’d charge the screen door. Smokey wouldn’t even flinch. But Kylie would come by and look at him – just look – and he’d be out of there in an instant.

There was not a day that went by that we didn’t appreciate Kylie being with us and tell her so. We loved her and she loved us. This I know.

We will have other pets in our future, but we’ll only have one Kylie…and she’ll always be with us.