FORWARD MOTION

It had been a while.

Over six months since I've written a column.

Life went on. Still...a question came up out of that.

How was life?

LIFE IS...STARTING?

I guess I could say it started...with a book.

DARKENED SOUL was a novel a decade in the making. I had birthed it from its beginnings in the smoking section of Jonesboro's Perkins Family restaurant during my early college years to its final draft done in San Diego and printed out at the Postal Place in 2010.

Of course, my chances were better if I acutally made time to actually go through my writer email account.

So I did.

For a week, I logged onto my writer account. I sorted through the emails. Total around 700, I proceeded to get through between 50 to 100 a day. Some days were better than others. In the end, I did it.

And next...was the submission package. Most potnetial publishers preferred a writer to send in a cover letter and the first three chapters. After going back over DS's prologue and first three chapters, I sent it off.

Then...I waited.

Then...of course...I got busy. There was work. There was more work. I was sure there was a trip in there.

So...I had to go through my writer email address again.

I groaned at the idea of doing it. However, It had to be done.

And though doing that, I discovered that one of the associate editor had read my submission...AND LOVED IT. She wanted to read the whole manuscript!!

I was in awe!

It...was a start.

LIFE IS...NOT?

That son of a bitch.

That probably summed it up.

In any case, I had done something I swore I would never do. I had created a personal ad on Adam4Adam, the website specifically designed for hookups.

There was a reason for it. A point. I wanted to prove that even with a site designed to get me laid that I STILL couldn't get laid. I gave it one month.

And what did I see?

Nothing that surprised me.

There were so many pictures of people showing off their penises, their butts, and even their buttholes. There were ads with pictures of hot men looking for muscular men. No fats. No fems. There were ads of fat people practically begging to either suck or fuck. there were ads of good-looking and ugly couples looking for a third. Nearly all of them were looking for Latinos and Aisans before black.

I looked at the ads. I know I preferred provcative pictures that made me WANT to rip the person's clothes off. Or they could look good in their clothes in a picture. So I wanted to see a person's face...small town or not. Therefore, the butthole pictures were turn-offs.

I mentally laughed at the pictures involving anyone looking for muscular. From what I've seen in Little Rock among gaysm, not to even begin mentioning the fact ALL have muscular and feminie qualities to them, there was really no such thing. Whether it was a bar like the Flying Saucer, a restaurant like Olive Garden, or a hotel, every man with a muscular body usually moved like a queen, talked liked a queen, and acted like a gueen. So...what was 'muscular?'

No fats brought to mind a very interesting fact: the fact was there was a LOT of overweight people. Maybe it was the fact I spent years in California where looks were a big deal. I loved some stocky, but I hated fat. I had a busy schedule, but usually worked out four or five times a week. I wanted something I could grab onto, yes. And by grab, I meant soft flesh, not rubble.

I found the couple ads disturbing. It was hard enough finding one guy I clicked with. I didn't need competition. Also part of me felt like if you had to go outside a relationship for someone, something was lacking. How could you claim to love someone and yet stick your tool in another?

Obviously, I wasn't getting laid on here.

Until the day I did.

***

It was shocking to me actually.

Not only was a man (emphasis on 'man'), but he was not an overweight man or even a guy with too much queeny to him. He walked, talked, and drove a car like a red-blooded man.

And he liked me.

In Arkansas? Yes...very shocking.

One week turned into another week. Another week turned into months. Dare I say it? Was I actually...dating? I must have been given the several men who threw themselves at me...a sure sign you are in a relationship.

So of course the other shoe dropped.

A recurring theme in this dating period was lack of time. He worked Monday through Friday..and had children. I worked all the time with very limited windows of free time. When I rearranged my time to make time for him...only to find he was not receptive about that...not to mention catching him in a lie...I knew it was time to cut him loose. And cut loose I did.

That was back in March.

Haven't dated...or been laid...since.

I'm still a magnet for people I don't want. The confused guy. The married guy. The coupled.

Was there no single gay man?

I would say...not for me. Black man into other races.

LIFE IS...FLEETING?

I would have to say the only other thing of note was Hillbilly.

Hillbilly was this co-worker of mine at the hotel I thought he was attractive enough, but his personality was an asshole. He was always so wound tight.

I should have known where things were going to fall when he showed a hint of a goofy sense of humor. I should have been sure of it when he showed a hint of emotional depth and intensity one day after dealing with a rude quest. I really should have known when I bought him a fifth of Jack Daniels for his birthday, and he responded with a socked expression and a giant (not to mention manly) hug...something uncharacteristic of him.

What followed was a roller coaster that had highs and lows. There was quite a few too close moments in the pantry of the hotel kitchen...whether it was him grabbing me in his arms only to jump back when someone walked in or him standing still I held him in my arms, my nose lightly nuzzling his ear. There were also fights like when a third party would cause a clash or when we would call out the other on his crap. There was what he called the 'greatest night of his life' when he called me sloppy drunk the day after Valentine's Day and I took him out where he got to hear his favorite song played live.

Then...he got fired.

***

I looked at my phone as I stumbled out of bed.

It was the last day of my stay in Las Vegas. Glenn had gotten V.I.P. tickets to the electric Daisy Carnival for me as a birthday present. what followed was a beautiful oydessy of mind, body, and soul. I had rediscovered myself. Now I dreaded heading back to Little Rock...which was mudane compared to the last three days.

I frowned at my phone. It was Hillbilly's personal taxi driver. I found that odd. Since I used him from time to time, I made sure to let him know I would be out of town.

So I had no idea that less than 30 minutes before the missed phone call...Hillbilly had killed himself.

LIFE IS...FOR LIVING?

I guess in a way it made a crazy kind of sense.

My life back in Arkansas began as a result of me reacting to my father's passing. I sat on a bridge at 4:50 A.M. in the morning. I was going to be late for work...which had been hell since Hillbilly's passing. That was the day I knew.

That was the day I knew it was time to leave Arkansas. There was nothing for me here now.

What I wanted. The things that would make me happy. I knew I would not find them heren in such a close-minded small town pretending to be a big city.

So I walked into the coffeehouse...

...and started writing.

Diego


 

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