So I must admit to my inner Velvet Rage! I grew up in the Suburbs of Washington DC and life for me was void of excitement and interest.It seemed at some point around my early adolescence, I became obsessed with the idea of life being full of adventures.

I loved any movie that was set in Europe or an exotic location. I especially was devoted to James Bond. High speed chases and danger all around were my escapes. I was lucky enough to grow up around trees and quiet country roads. I would imagine myself on high speed chases,pedaling for my life on my Electric Blue Mongoose. If I was feeling particularly adventurous I would take on Construction sites.

I used to have a living room in the woods. Someone discarded a green sofa in a Clearing in the Woods beyond my neighborhood park.It was my lair. I would hatch plans to assassinate Despots and Terrorists. It was my place of safety.

As I grew, I yearned to be an international citizen. The word international gleamed in my head. Borders were nothing but imaginary lines, drawn by greedy men , seeking to control the most uncontrollable force on earth, Humanity. I was eager to join the world in a progression to Utopia. A world where I was an Earthling and not an American. That's why I have no problem picking up and moving to this day.

But underneath it all, I know its the Boogeyman. The narrative I created for myself in order to escape the tedium of life in the Burbs. Growing up in a Military Family, moving was a way of life. When my mother was honorably discharged from service, we retired to Clinton,Md. Where she could easily access her veterans access to Andrew Air Force Base. Our home was nice, and had a pool in the backyard. There were a few repairs needed.My life became a renovation project. It never turned out quite right.

My teen years in Suburbia fueled my urge for City living. I never want to return to the Suburbs. I never want to be bored and looking at just my neighbors house again. I never want to go from window to window and see virtually the same picture everyday. Barring changes in Weather or additions to the decor of my neighbors homes, the view was permanent. It gave me the feeling of entrapment.It was a prison. A mental prison ,nonetheless, I felt the need to RUN!I have ever since.

I want to stop, and lay safely in my over sized bed.I want to enjoy a prescription induced slumber. I want to stay out all night at parties with Artists and Dancers. I want to park my car in my garage with electric door. I want to accept invitations to visit friends in Villas on Private Islands. I want to have a dog. I want a husband. I want to have affairs. I want what I want. A life full of desire. Instead I keep packing and moving.

AINT THAT THE TRUTH!

Paper Bag

I was staring at the sky looking for a Star
To prey on
Or wish on
Or something like that...

F.Apple



I have indeed dated several other fellows where our relationship barely made it to the light of day. And not for any other reason but shame or fear. The only way I can come to terms with my ability to put up with the claustrophobia is I had accepted a policy of radical acceptance. Radical Acceptance is a phrase I picked up from perusing Buddhist philosophy. I just like the idea that two people can hold on to the core of who they are while building a third person, if you will.

I am not sure if many men understand this concept. Or at least not the ones I attract.

Enter Tyrone

Tyrone, was a second year law student at Howard Law. He swore I was smiling at him in the dark lower level of the landmark Fireplace bar, located on the edge of Dupont Circle. I noticed him staring at me and I had not been stared at in that way before. He had a wild look in his eyes and a New York bravado. He was extremely masculine and approached me aggressively. He smelled of faint musk and wore camouflage, GI Bill law student, just out of the closet DRAG. I was intrigued.

After a short sabbatical in Harlem at my friends apartment. I returned to DC ready for a cold winter. I had been very depressed and not sure of my direction. University of Maryland College Park was the antithesis of the small private New England College I previously attended. I was eager for an adventure. Tyrone and I would go to places I had never dreamed of.


He taught me things about my body. The first time we hooked up at his apartment. I was so nervous. Every touch he landed on me sent me into quivers. He growled and tugged on my clothes. He snarled and smacked my thighs. He appreciated the things on me that I always disliked. My love handles, man boobs, and flat awkward feet. He caressed, massaged, and nibbled every bit. He found a spot on my lower abdomen that sent me into convulsions, of laughter. I was playfully rejecting him, pushing is head away. He pinned me down. looked me dead in the eye. " Laughter is resistance, don't you feel good when you laugh. Relax and laugh."And did I, it was the most innocuous tickling I ever experienced. Thats coming from a former child tickle addict. I would almost pay people when I was a kid to get tickled. I am not ticklish anymore.

Wait I have to back up!

Before Tyrone there was Kindle. This was all around the turn of the millennium. It was the shedding of my need to be pursued and the beginning of my season of love lessons. Kindle was Tyrone's developmental course.

I was a waiter at a conspicuous Dupont Circle restaurant. I was stationed on the sidewalk table section and the late spring winds were picking up. I saw a massive figure moving slowly my way from across the lanes of traffic on the always snarled roundabout. I felt as if I willed him to walk over. Although I was closing the patio, I ran in and begged to take one more table, at the guests request. I have never wanted to feed a man more.

Somehow, I knew I had to ask him out. I put on a bravado, I don't really have to this day. But he was down with getting to know more about me. I went home and called all my friends for a conference. We decided I was ready. I was only 20 but I never got carded. I got a fake ID just in case.

We dated our way around the world; Ethiopian restaurants in the bustling Adams Morgan neighborhood, Brazilian themed lounges in Dupont Circle south, Sexy Uptown Jazz clubs on the Historic U street. We were a handsome pair of chocolate men. We flirted with each other in a simple and boyish manner. Backhanded quick slaps to the torso, accented with a sly grin. The brush of the thigh when rising from the bar, always accompanied by mumbled excuse me. I couldn't wait to go to bed with him.

I never did get him in the bed. One night hanging out in the tony remote neighborhood of Friendship Heights, we were on the side of his car playing brotherly love. I was getting frustrated. I excused my self for the night. Moved in for a hug and he picked me up! While I had those luscious lips in reach, I went in for a peck. I promptly found myself on the ground. ( Stumped ) Me too!

As he pulled off in his family style car, I slowly hung my head and walked away. I waved behind myself as he honked to acknowledge his departure. I felt a sick feeling. Rejection is such a bitch. I was forced to acknowledge that Kindle was simply not into me. It took 2 weeks of phone calls to get him out of my system. We bump into each other every now and again. I swoon every time.

Back To Tyrone



I am in tears. We are standing on the East facing terrace of the National Capital Building. I am filled with a trembling I had not experienced. " I love you" had regressed me to an age before words. I was at once angered and in disbelief, thus producing confusion. I have always liked to be disoriented. The feeling of dizziness comforts me and always has. But this was more. It was too perfect. Cecil Beaton could not have set it better. I was on the set of An American in Paris. He was Gene Kelly and I was whoever she was. I needed an emotion and tears were picture perfect. The mist, the overly productive fountain, the night air, all of this was set into motion just to give me a reason to "ugly" cry.

I'm not sure where my next " I love you" will come from, but the first one was too much. Next time, I would like a faint stench of some sort and the plain setting of a chain restaurant. A laughing " I love you" over Ihop! That's what I want.

I will tell you what became of Tyrone on another post


AINT THAT THE TRUTH!

Ok ATL Here I come!

I have heard for the past ten years that I will love ATL. I am about to prove the opposite true, because if I dont I will put ATL in the bag with Boston, Charlotte, and DC. These are the top things I have heard in praise of the ATL:

10. Its the GAYEST City EVER!
09. If Black People Rule, then the Throne is here
08. Fabulous Parties
07. People are more down to earth
06. Labor Day Weekend
05. Lennox Mall
04. Thick and Sexy People
03. Best Soul Food City
02. People Eat
01. Party Favors are CHEAP!!!

Tell me your favorite thing About ATL