3500.things

06.30.2020

Well, this is a bit of a tricky one considering that in my situation there are two guys going on the date together so in a facetious way, yes the guy should pay because only a guy could pay.

But my theory is this: If I am asked out by someone on a date, then I would think they would pay for the date, especially if it’s the first one. After that we can spilt or take turns or come to some agreement. If I ask someone out, I anticipate paying for the entirety of the date, especially if it's the first date. I find combativeness towards this to be very unattractive, because 1) I like to do nice things for people. It’s how I was raised and for me, 2) it's a way of showing love and respect. Just let me do it.

With that being said, my personal policy makes me think I’m kind-of old fashioned. And maybe I am a little in the way I think about dating and money and how it all comes together.

I know that in a relationship I am somewhat of a traditionalist, I am definitely a monogamist and I am not afraid of commitment. These things are becoming extremely rare in heterosexual relationships and even more rare in homosexual ones. However, if I was in a serious-committed relationship and it was to the point where we were living together and paying bills together and all the other things that go along with that, I don’t know how I would feel about combining all of our financial resources into a joint banking account.

I feel what money I make should be mine, especially if I make more than my partner but I’d be willing to share that excess with them if they needed assistance. As long as we split expenses 50/50 and can meet the needed obligations in life between us then your excess money should be in each person's own custody. I wouldn’t be opposed to opening a joint savings account or something so we could both fund it towards our future, with the agreement that if our relationship ended we would each receive the money back we put into it, less any withdraws or joint decisions we made together to spend money.

originally posted 10.11.2019 on my personal facebook page

To everyone:

National Coming Out Day is today, Friday October 11, 2019.

And I know this post is late. I realize it is after midnight on the east coast so technically it isn’t National Coming Out Day anymore, but something happened tonight that was monumental- and I didn’t get to finish my initial thought while writing earlier. Keep reading, please:

I am excited to celebrate in my first National Coming Out Day, in 2019, as an officially-out member of the gay community. However, today has been very emotional as it causes me to pause for a moment and reflect on my own journey and how I arrived here. As I am reading articles and newsfeeds on the internet today and seeing people compelled in the acceptance and encouragement of this day, to come out, I must say I have very pointed and mixed emotions.

I have mentioned and identified myself as a gay man in a few blogs that I have written recently (that I am sure nobody reads), however, this is really the first time I have publicly acknowledged it as a whole on Facebook- other than to those who I have directly come out to. I have taken pleasure in promoting myself as an ally for a few years now, but I am tired of hiding behind that identity and am ready to step out into the light and live a full, unfiltered and authentic life.

I have known I was different for a long time. I felt feelings as a young child that I simply did not understand, and those feelings did not go away- they never have and only intensified over time. I was raised in an extremely conservative-Christian household, taught that being gay was an immoral and unnatural thing, I got the hellfire and brimstone speech and I was encouraged and forced to speak hate towards things that were supposedly against God. And I did those things. And I hurt people. And I never wanted to do them. But, I always knew that I was what I was forced to speak out about.

I became extremely depressed and suicidal in my teenage years. I tucked away my true self and I damaged myself mentally and physically with the rhetoric I was forced to digest. I never felt like I could be me, until now. In this moment. But getting to this point hasn’t been easy. It has been countless therapy sessions, panic attacks, many nights crying myself to sleep and length of time to get me to finally accept myself and allow myself to explore with the God-given (yes, God-given) gift that being gay has ultimately brought me.

Let’s talk about God for just a quick moment. Know that I am a spiritual person but there is no religion here. Not a drop.

You can throw Genesis 19, Leviticus 18 & 20, Romans 1:18-32, 1 Corinthians 6:9-10 and 1 Timothy 1:8-10 at me all day. The Bible says what it says, but it does not mean anything to me personally. The Bible was a manuscript that was written for an ancient time, in an ancient time and does not take into consideration the advancements in human thought and condition over the many years since its inception. The Bible should not be a standard to compare, govern nor should it be used as a tool ultimately control how people live nowadays. Without discrediting the text itself, I do believe there are great life-lessons to be learned from the Bible about love and how to conduct yourself in a more upright way. However, I believe that taking the current Christian argument to the case of homosexuality is the wrong thing to do. And I will vehemently disagree with anyone who does this. It is damaging. It is hurtful and it adds no real value to anything.

Contrary to what religious types will argue, being gay is not wrong. It is not ungodly; it is not a sin and gay people will not go to Hell- even if there is such a place. Being gay is way more than a physical thing. It is an emotional intelligence, it is the idea of love, acceptance and tolerance that comes with a huge responsibility. Being gay is not defined by who you love or choose to be intimate with or enter into marriage with. It is not a choice; it is a reality, a truth, a tangible thing. It is also a greater expansion of oneself, ones spirit and your ability to express love and accept love.

Saying that I was a repressed gay man until the age of 34 is the understatement of the year. I wanted so desperately to explore my sexuality in high school, when at age 16 I decided that I had struggled long enough with trying to figure out what being gay meant and finally internally accepted that I was.

However, I didn’t have the freedom to operate in or express my sexuality, as a teen in my household, at the time. I got bullied in school for not dating women, so I did, and I eventually married a woman. Several years in, while trying rather unsuccessfully at keeping the charade going and while being accused almost daily of being a closeted gay man- we divorced. I had to lie to my friends and family, I had to create a scenario where I was the good guy and she was the bad guy and she did all these things that contributed to the breakdown in our marriage. I wanted something that I felt like I couldn’t have at the time and I couldn’t be the partner she needed much less deserved. We are both better people apart than we ever were together and marrying her is the single biggest regret in my life.

As I’ve grown older and started to formulate my own opinions and ideas about things, I decided to distance myself from my faith and seek a journey of my own understanding. Part of that journey was finally resolving in this year to come out to friends and family.

I told everyone by the end of July, except my dad. I know his opinion of gay folks- he has made it clear. Nothing derogatory of course, but the ignorance to it shows through sometimes. I also know where he stands from a religious perspective- he has also made that clear. He has accepted my friends who are gay, he wants to meet my new friends who are RubiGirls, see a drag show and he wants to know things or ask things but is sometimes hesitant to do it.

I’ve been on an exposure-therapy campaign with him over the past several months. I put a pride flag in my bedroom, some drag queen paraphernalia went on display, I went to 2 Pride celebrations this year- one in Dayton and the other in Cincinnati. He knows what I’m doing is out of the ordinary for me because I’ve never done it before but have always wanted to and have been interested in it. I wanted to go to a Pride event for many years, but I just couldn’t do it. So, as I’ve slowly been exposing him to things and being a little more vocal about my standpoints and viewpoints on LGBTQIA+ issues in the news and culture, he has started to gather and form an opinion.

Today, I was reading a page on Facebook that stated it was a moderated safe space for individuals who were not out to talk and share their stories. What I read was heartbreaking; just the sheer ignorance of parents and things they say to their children just for being gay. I wanted to talk to dad about it, and I did. I told him some of the terrible things that happened to people- mostly issues between sons and fathers- and he expressed to me his disgust with families disowning children just for being gay. I understand and fully appreciate his comment of “…well, I don’t understand it totally, but I’d want my kid to be happy and healthy. There are bigger ‘crimes’ than being gay.”

This ultimately led into a 90+ minute conversation where I was able to tell him how I felt and my entire 16-year backstory. There is more to discuss between he and I, but my tone was measured and precise. The main thing I needed to say, in order to heal myself, be true to myself and allow myself to advance in my life were these 4 words: Dad, I am gay.

We talked and talked some more. He is not mad, a little confused (which is a normal response), and more reflective. He expressed to me that he wants me to be happy, healthy and to make wise decisions (typical dad advice). He also said he loves me and supports me, and always will, regardless of any decision I make – good or bad – in my life.

What a relief this is! On my first real National Coming Out Day I was able to finish writing the prologue of my story of becoming the person I always knew I could be. I am starting to write the chapters of my new life around all the garbage that is in the past. It’s a new day and I am ready to face it with the full support and love of my parents by my side. I truly am blessed and lucky to have this experience play out as it did. A lot of people do not get what I have, and I am very fortunate.

For those of you who need support in whatever journey you may be on, reach out to me if you feel comfortable in doing so. I’m a safe person to come out to. If you’re reading this and you have questions, contact me too. I’m an open book- ask away. If you’re reading this, and you have nothing positive or of value to say then move on.

Thanks for allowing me to share my life so unfiltered and express that vulnerability on the internet for all to consume. This goes a long way in my healing and with moving forward in my life. And, thank you to all of those who have supported me in the past several months as I have made declarations to you about my life. Your love and support mean the world to me and I can never thank you enough.

09.23.2019

Over the past 17 months, I have been in a battle for my health and my life. While I am overcoming this battle every day, small win by small win, I still have some considerations to think about as I move forward in my health and wellness journey.

In April 2018 I was admitted into the ICU at Miami Valley Hospital with respiratory and the beginnings of heart failure. Over the year prior, I gained 75 pounds, putting me at a weight of 635 pounds- the highest weight I have ever been. My body was shutting down. I had battled bronchitis four times that winter (December, twice in January and once in February) and was coming down with it again, or so I thought. What I actually had was pneumonia back in December and wasn’t treated properly so the issue compounded into an almost disaster.

I blame some of the weight gain over the year 2018 on medication, but I cannot blame all of it on that. I was so unhappy and miserable with my life and eating out of control. I knew I had sleep apnea but wasn’t formally diagnosed with it and I wasn’t using a C-pap to help me at night. To battle my anxiety and depression I was prescribed, what I found out later was a lethal combination of sleeping medication, antidepressants and anti-seizure medications. The anti-seizure medication could also be used to treat bipolar disorder, that I was also incorrectly diagnosed as having. I was a mess- a literal mess. I had no friends it seemed, I had no life, I lost my job because of my health and missing too much work paired with a department downsize and I just wanted to die. I honestly did. I have never felt that way in my life ever, until that moment and it scared me so bad that I never want to feel that way again. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired and I wanted relief from it.

Mom took me to the emergency room that night. I was so sick and weak, but I walked in on my own. I was having such a difficulty breathing and my oxygen stats were 62% and they should be in the mid-to upper ninety’s. The doctors immediately started to administer enriched oxygen, did blood work, chest x-rays and a plethora of other testing. They were afraid I was going to stroke because I was deprived of oxygen so severely. They started to administer diuretics because my blood pressure was nearly 200/140 and it should be in the 120/80 range for a healthy adult- that I was not. After hours of observation, voiding the excess liquids in my body, a positive x-ray diagnosis of pneumonia and my oxygen stats not raising on 5 liters of oxygen, they decided to admit me to the ICU for more intense treatment.

They took me up and got me situated, the pulmonologist had come up to talk to mom and dad in the hallway. They don’t know that I heard the conversation that he had with them, but I remember him telling them that I was nearing death’s doorstep if the antibiotics didn’t work and they couldn’t get my stats up to a normal level. It scared me so bad that I passed out under the immense stress I was under. When I come to, my pulmonologist was in the room checking things out and he noticed I had just woken up. He sat on the edge of my bed and he initiated a discussion with me. I remember every word. I wrote down our conversation after it was over; I do this often in my life when monumental things happen.

“How old are you?” “I’m 32, about to be 33 in a couple weeks.” “You know you have some pretty serious things going on here. The pneumonia I can treat, and you’ll be fine in that way, but the low oxygen levels and extremely high blood pressure is something that we need to intensely take a look at. I’m just going to be frank with you: you need a C-pap, you have sleep apnea and I can tell without looking at the results of a sleep study. You are full of fluid; you were in respiratory failure and that is correcting itself, but you are showing signs of heart failure- we may be able to stop that from happening.”

He kind-of apologized for his next statement and continued:

“You are grossly overweight. You have to do something about that. I am going to refer you to a weight loss surgeon for intervention there. It’s a serious thing.”

The next statement shocked me to the core. He laid it all on the line:

“You will die by your 34th birthday if you don’t do something, starting today- right here, right now.”

At that point in time I was done hearing what he had to say, and it upset me. I got out of the hospital 3 days later, went home on supplemental oxygen and had home health coming 2 times a week to monitor me. I resolved at that point in time that this was not how I was going to live my life and I was going to prove my doctors wrong and live. My 34th birthday was July 15, 2019 - I made it.

About a month later I had an appointment with a bariatric surgeon, and I had managed to lose 32 pounds on my own from a diet plan formulated by the hospital. I followed it to the letter. My insurance required that I complete 9 months of physician supervised diet and exercise programs and there was still no guarantee that I would be eligible for the surgery.

Fast forwarding a little bit, by the time I was to have surgery in March 2019 I had lost 145 pounds on my own. I went on a caloric restriction diet where I ate no more than 1200 calories a day along with other macronutrient goals. During the few months I was working out and eating like I should be, I felt better, my lungs cleared, I had a sleep study (got the annoying c-pap) and started to heal. Long story short, I have not had the surgery yet as of September 2019 due to not receiving a cardiac clearance. We are revisiting the surgery options in the winter after I lose another 20-30 pounds. To date I have lost 184 pounds on my own, with no surgical intervention and I feel much better. I am still a very overweight person, but that scale is still headed in the right direction and I am seeing progress weekly. Any negative is a positive when it comes to weight loss. 

I feel great today and I am happy with my progress, but I see an end goal in sight and am running to the finish line as quickly and as safely as I can. Most people need a wakeup call in their lives to motivate them to do something with their life. I got mine on April 25, 2018 laying in room 3 of the intensive care unit of Miami Valley Hospital.

09.22.2019

My relationship with my now ex-wife ended horribly and I regret it so much.

She and I met in 11th grade at the JVS (vocational high school). We were forced to sit next to each other in Mr. Weldy’s science class. I showed up late to class on the first day of school (new building, new environment- I got lost) and the seat next to her was the only one open in the class of 40-some odd people. She had some major RBF going on. She sat there with her bookbag and paraphernalia spread out all over the table, arms crisscrossed, she gave me about 6 inches of space on the tabletop and immediately said “DON’T FUCKING TALK TO ME” when I sat down and quietly said hello. And, did I mention she had on a pink t-shirt with green lettering that said “Princess” on it? What a trip this chick was.

So, on the first day of class, not only did I get to sit next to this wonderful abundance of hospitality and warmth- we got paired together to make concrete boats for a regatta the next week between the local community college and the JVS kids. But that’s when things started to change in our relationship. We worked well together on that project and actually won the competition. We started off as friends and seemingly got close by the third or fourth month of school. I was really in a confused way at the time about my sexuality, all my guy-friends were dating girls from our class, there was slim-pickings with the gay community in the high school and I didn’t feel comfortable with how I felt, so to make my time easier I asked her out on a date. We went to the Midwinter dance our junior year together.

On one hand, I asked her out because I was tired of being ostracized for being single and not dating a girl. On the other, I was nowhere comfortable enough coming-out in high school. I had no one to talk to about it, the guidance counselor at the JVS referred me to a pastor to talk about me feeling like I was gay (big mistake- can we say I just about had to endure some bible-banging endorsed conversion therapy and was also threatened that my pastor at my local church would be informed, thus informing my parents). My dad was and still is an ultra-religious hardcore conservative Christian and mom couldn’t ever keep her mouth shut about anything going on with me and I knew it would devastate her if I told her I was having proclivities towards men… so I just pushed it away and rolled with it, thinking my feelings and psyche would change over time. Obviously, it never did.

I wish I would have had the courage and strength to just make a declaration in high school, at age 16, that I was gay and start living that life then. I did a lot of damage to myself tucking that away from age 16 to 34- when I formally come out to most of my family and all of my friends. My dad still doesn’t know, I think he suspects because I’ve been doing things this year like going to pride events, drag shows, becoming close with a great “guy-friend” and spending time with him more than what is a little out of the ‘norm’ for me. My mental health, physical health and emotional health have suffered greatly from stifling something so hurtful for 18 years.

Ok, back on track with my story: she and I dated all through high school and soon became the “it-couple” at the JVS. We were voted most likely to get married, most likely to have babies first and I won Mr. Romance- it’s all documented in the yearbook my class made for each other. So stupid.

I won’t go into the entire story of how our relationship unraveled, because I could write a book on my feeling and opinions, but I will say this: we dated from 2002-2008 and got married in October that last year. She had accused me of being gay on and off at times in our relationship for various reasons but what really drove the point home and caused the accusations to fly was a trip to Cedar Point with some mutual co-worker friends of ours. 

Long story short, drinks were poured and consumed in massive amounts, weed was floating around and I got really comfortable- enough to let my guard completely down. Not to mention I had always had a crush on the husband of the other couple that was camping with us at Cedar Point that weekend. He kept getting more drunk as the night went on, my ex and his wife went outside to have a smoke and light the bonfire and he and I made out after playing some “couple sex games” between all four of us. I just went for it. That was the first time I ever kissed a man. My ex and his wife walked back in, caught us and then that forced me to open up and talk to my ex about things. He had to talk to his wife too, because it turns out he was a repressed bisexual man and she never knew. It was a totally fucked up situation. And there is a lot more to the story, but it’s not fit for public consumption. Actually, what I’ve said so far probably isn’t either.

09.22.2019

Short answer: his voice.

09.20.19

After a 21-day hiatus, I am back to doing this. I don’t know why I stopped. I think it was my self-doubt that I could really complete this project because it is actually so daunting. Some of these questions are hard to answer, some take a lot out of me to write in a general sense and some I just don’t feel compelled to write about because of hurtful or just plain tough situations that trigger things within me. But- that’s the point of this process. To get it all down, in black and white and release these things within me that need to go. Some of the questions in this list of 3500 are nonsensical as well. I’ll work through some of them next week.

So, as promised: here is tonight’s sixth thing…

The narcissist side of me would like to think that I am perfect in every way- God knows that’s a lie. But I do recognize things in me that are character flaws. I know I get bitchy and grumpy, especially when I don’t get my way. I get a little rough with people who don’t understand me when I try to give directions or instructions. I have anxiety terribly. I am a jealous person and can be a little petty. I’m sure I could rattle off a ton more, but I’ll stop because I’m starting to realize I’m just a general asshole with all of this that I listed here. But in terms of a character flaw that can be both good and bad, one that comes to mind is that I love too hard.

It’s a good thing to love hard and it’s a bad thing to love hard. I have a tendency in my life to latch onto people hard and not want to let go. Again, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I can get too clingy and smothery. I was not the type of person to have a lot of friends in my childhood- well, let me back that up for a minute. Most of the friends I had as a kid were church friends. I didn’t connect with hardly anyone at school for reasons that I’m not going to get into in this answer- just know it was for reasons of bullying. I sought refuge in my church with those people- only for them to turn their backs on me when I grew up and got divorced and the ones that didn’t leave then, left when I came out. So, there’s that. I honestly don’t know how to do friendships and relationships the right way so when someone pays the slightest bit of attention to me in either sense, they become the new (almost) obsession and I end up choking people out.

08.30.2019 Tonight’s answer is short.

Yes.

I do honestly believe in love at first sight.

08.29.2019

I had my most recent nightmare a couple of weeks ago.

WARNING: 

A personal note to Carly and Greg M. Don’t read this. I implore you, DO NOT.

Before I go anymore further into detail, if you have any connection to the Dayton, Ohio Oregon District mass shooting tragedy- don’t read this.

When I dream, I tend to have vivid dreams. Most nights I cannot say that I remember what I dreamt about, but when I do, they are very real. It feels tangible. I can feel physical touch, pain and emotion in my dreams. I have held audible conversations with others in my sleep while I’ve been dreaming.

Most of my dreams are pleasant- they do not make much sense, or they can be revealing to me in some way about a problem or issue that needs solving. When I have a nightmare, I am paralyzed with fear and emotion. I will often wake up crying or still experiencing the emotional impact of the dream. Sometimes it lasts into the day or for days I can still feel it. Nightmares have caused me to endure panic attack episodes, heart palpitations and many sleepless nights.

The tragedy in the Oregon District happened in the early morning hours of August 4, 2019. There is no need for me to explain the situation, because it is well documented online and is now forever etched into the history of senseless gun crime in this country.

But what I will say is this: The Oregon District is home to me. It’s familiar. It is a place where I can be me. I’m accepted there for whatever I am and am not. I have great friends in my life who come from there, own businesses there, who live and work there. I was supposed to be in the district the night of the shooting. I was getting ready to venture to downtown Dayton when I suddenly became ill and decided to stay home. The shooting affected me severely and still bothers me greatly today. I’ve only been in the district twice since the shooting and I previously averaged going there weekly. I have a hard time being there. My favorite store in the district, Heart Mercantile, is directly across the street from Ned Pepper’s bar where the majority of the incident occurred. 4 days outside of the shooting, I visited the district to pay respects to the victims and see for myself what I was constantly seeing on television and hearing on the radio. The streets were still blood stained among the memorials that had been popping up all over 5th street. I cried on the street while hugging strangers as we all tried to wrap our heads around what happened just a short time before.

The day I went down there to see for myself what was going on, that night my nightmare came.

In my dream, my night in the Oregon District started out like any other night. My friend Greg was there, and he and I walked out of Tumbleweed (a bar) down to Heart Mercantile. For some reason I noticed the lights were on and the store was open late- but it was actually closed. I remember looking at my watch, it said 12:45 AM. My friend Carly was in the store (she’s a co-owner), saw us and motioned for us to come in. She unlocked the door for us. Carly was stocking the store and since Greg had never met her, I introduced him to her. We stood there talking for what seemed to be the longest time. The details of the conversation are not important, but I remember every word, action, laugh, comment, sound on the store audio system- everything, down to the creek in the floorboards by the register counter near the grate in the floor. Carly gave me a hug as we left. I felt the embrace, I remember in my sleep feeling how real it was. Greg and I headed out the front door, our mission was Ned Pepper’s to catch the last band of the night.

I remember glancing down at my watch again. Greg stepped off the curb about 10 paces ahead of me, onto the brick paved street as we headed off to Ned’s, and before I knew it shots were ringing out. I ducked down, not realizing what was going on and I stumbled backwards and fell. Greg fell too, or so I thought. I got up quickly to run as more gunfire was filling the night air. Greg didn’t get up. I was in such a daze that I couldn’t process anything. Carly was at the door of the store behind me, she ran out to grab me. I think she was going to pull me into the store where we had cover. She grabbed my left arm above the elbow, and I know this because when I woke up, I still felt a pressure on my arm. As I turned with her to run into the store, she fell too. I stumbled in the store, laid on the floor and listened as the police ended the situation. When everything was said and done, my two friends were gone, and I immediately woke up panicked. I actually screamed in my sleep and it was loud enough that it woke my dad up who was in his bedroom, 3 doors down the hall over window air conditioner noise and his television that he never turns off when he sleeps. I remember seeing the vivid and graphic details of the aftermath of the situation. It stuck with me for days, nearly a week, but it has lessened now. I know they are both safe and sound. I’ve seen them both several times since and it was all just a mindfuck. But a very real mindfuck involving two people who hold a great significance in my life at this point in time. You cannot even imagine how I felt when I woke up, sweat pouring off my brow and tears running down my face.

I purposefully left out a lot of details in respect for those involved in the real situation and also for those who were involved in this hellish mental game my brain played on me in my sleep.

08.28.2019

Another tricky thing to answer today.

Long story short, kinda. 

I believe in a higher power- if that is a God, then it is a God.

I do not believe we are all here by happenstance. 

We all have a purpose, a goal and authority that was set unto us by a higher calling.

Again, if that higher calling is a God, then it is a God.

I believe the Bible. I believe it was an inspired word passed down through the generations as a set of thoughts and opinions, so to speak, for how humans should live their life. But I don’t agree with all of it. It’s not all black and white as grey is a prominent color in the scriptures.

The Bible was written in ancient times for a modern setting. Through translations and transcriptions, not to mention the 100’s of versions of the Bible that exist today; I don’t think the Bible encompasses all settings and situations of today’s modern world.

I am not doubting the existence of a God or an eternal resting place. I believe our souls go somewhere when we die and that we are judged on our works here on this Earth.

I was raised Pentecostal. Strict Pentecostal. Not snake charming, rather tongues speaking holy-roller. But I was taught flawed logic by the Christian church. I was expected to hate gays, taught that women are subservient under a man’s authority and that abortion is murder.

None of those three things do I agree with and for the record I never have aligned with and here’s why:

I cannot fathom to think that God really cares if people are gay- he made me and others this way and in his infinite wisdom and perfection I cannot believe he made a mistake. The Bible talks about the processes and ideas of love more than anything else, so who cares who I love and where I fall on the sexual preference spectrum?

Abortion is a medical procedure that a woman can electively choose to terminate a pregnancy- for whatever reason they so choose. You may agree with it or not, but I feel that classifying it as murder is extremely off base and detrimental to the mental health of women who feel they have no other option than to choose it.

On that same note, women should be considered equal to men in all aspects and not thought of as baby machines or helpmates. Welcome to 2019 asshole- who am I to tell a woman what to do, how to dress, how to think and how to conduct themselves? What kind of fucked up thinking is that? 

08.27.2019

There seems to be a lot going wrong right now. Sometimes I actually look forward to the disappointment versus the joy that I know life can bring. Joy is subversive however, hard to come by and can leave you feeling worse off in the long run.

I’d say the biggest worst-thing about my life right now is dealing with the fact that I am gay. I have been this way for the longest time. I knew about age 16, but only come out to myself and others starting in February 2019. I was married to a woman at one point in time, for a period of a few years. We divorced in 2010 due to the fact that I was gay; I just couldn’t pretend anymore. She sought the company of another person and weirdly enough, I was hurt by that but have come to realize that I could not blame her for getting what she needed. It was all on me and I accept that one hundred percent. I had no right to be upset with her for going and doing what she needed to do, but I never saw it that way until I put myself in her shoes and felt her pain. I will forever feel horrible about how things happened. This is my biggest regret so far in life.

Being gay has most certainly caused me more heartache and headache than I care to live through; but it is how I am at my core. It is an unchangeable thing about me. I’ve tried to run from it. I tried to pray it away. I’ve lost friends over it. I’ve been kicked out of church over it. I’ve hurt my family. What a great person I am… but I need to somehow find the strength to hold my head up high and live what is really the only truth about me.

I’ve only ever kissed two men in my life. I’ve never actually dated a man. I’ve only had one relationship in my life and that was with a woman. I have no experience in “gay land” or relationships in general because the only one I’ve ever been in was a farce and totally dysfunctional- I don’t know how to do it. I make mistakes. I need to be patient with myself, kick myself into lower gear and just trust the process.

I do want love though. It escapes me. I crave intimate closeness with another person; it almost drives me to the point of madness and desperation. Do not mistake that for sex- for that is the furthest thing on my mind at this point.

I get very wrapped up in people very quickly- it is a major character flaw about me and I’m trying to work on that but that is something that cannot be changed overnight. I have been so alone in my life that when someone pays the slightest bit of attention to me then I am hooked.

At no point ever in my life have I felt so unloved and so damaged. I’m hurting people in this process of coming out and living my life as a 34-year-old gay man, in conservative Ohio farmland trying to pretend to be something that I’m not. I’m hurting myself, too. What a vicious cycle to endure.

08.26.2019

Now this is a toss-up kind of a question; one that requires two answers.

I cannot name a “who” to answer this question with (because I’ve been chronically single forever), but my favorite “who” to cuddle would have to be a man. There’s just something about having strong arms wrapped around your body, pulling you in close while lying in bed that makes me feel safe, warm and secure. The closer, the better.

I deal with anxiety, depression and loneliness a lot in my life. How it is so very nice when the opportunity finds itself, and you can connect with someone on a deeper level, to lay in bed with them and just experience the closeness of another human-being that you love. You get to experience their style of body language and it can also teach you a lot about a person- their scent, the way they breathe, the way they touch you. For me, this is soul nourishing and I crave it.

My name is Jacob Dicke and I have 3500 questions to answer.

I will answer one a day, for the next 9.5 years.

There is no real purpose for this project, no real reason other than for my own creative outlet. I want this to be part of my personal legacy.

I’m 34 now, I’ll be nearly 43 when this project is over and I want to document my place in this time and my thoughts, ideas and opinions on things. All of the questions will be answered honestly and unapologetically. 

Approximately February 26, 2029 this project will be completed.