Now before I go off on a rant, and I am accused of being homophobic, uptight or, heaven forbid unenlightened, I declined his pass.
I did it with stoned style and grace, no need in getting ugly because someone, albeit a same sex someone, was attracted to me. In my defense, I was buff, young and alone, and I felt it a little rude to use these things as an excuse to grope my junk just because you turned me on to some weed. (Yeah ladies, a lot like the buy you a drink ploy...you know what I'm talking about.) But, rejection is still what it is, and I guess it made him mad.
He made me walk back to the terminal. (This was not my first rodeo by the way...growing up I was sexually abused a number of times and approached many more. By the time I was ten I had seen more naked old men than Heidi Fleiss. And before I upset some of you more sensitive types...I know there is no parallel between child molesters and gay men, I am not making that comparison, just stating a fact. I stopped being victimized by it a long time ago. To put it succinctly, I got off the cross, used the wood to build a bridge and got over it. Enough said.)
I boarded the commuter flight and hit on the flight attendant extra hard. (Just to be sure)
We landed forty minutes later in the middle of a perfumed moonscape of black lava fields.
A really big ass ocean on one side (for those of you in Texas, you know that this is actually a standard unit of measurement,) and grand, green and lush mountains on the other. Paradise.
I hailed a cab, and history, as it is want to do, repeated itself, one more time...
5 comments:
It's hard when we've been abused as children to get a feeling that we're worthwhile. Often the people closest to you were the pedophiles, and with that kind of early lesson in love, it's bloomin' miracle that we're not all barking mad!
Although, in my case, I'm a tad on the edge. And I've shared your journey of alcohol and in two days I'll have four years clean! The try before that, I made it just sixteen days short of a year.
So there's hope for us, it seems. I love what you are writing, and I'll be back for more.
Dano
It's interesting: when I was in my early twenties, I lived in San Francisco for three months and never once got hit on by any men. Then I went to Europe and, in a matter of weeks in Yugoslavia, Greece, and Germany, the guys were wantin' me all over the place. There just seems to be something about being far from home...maybe they figure that you're safe since people are probably less likely to get violently homophobic when outside of their own environment. Anyway, best to take it as a compliment and move on....
Love this line in your post
I stopped being victimized by it a long time ago. To put it succinctly, I got off the cross, used the wood to build a bridge and got over it. Enough said
Am hoping to use this as my motto one day, but can't get past the getting off the cross part.
Thank you all for your comments...it's nice to know that someone might be getting something out of this, other than it being hugely cathartic for me.
I think you are a really good writer and i loved reading your stuff ... cheers
Post a Comment