I corner S at the refrigerator after he’s changed out of his work clothes, and is on the hunt for a snack. With lips puckered, I bombard his personal bubble with a kiss. “Hiiiiii, how was your day?” Thinking he’s slick, he turns a cheek to my still puckered and eager lips, letting me have a few more quick kisses before attempting to force me out of his face. “Nooooo” is the message he wails as I hold him in strong bear hug. I laugh and feel him squirm; desperately trying to free himself, and secretly getting a kick out of my attack. The only way out of my bicep prison, is for him to give me the password. With lips still pushed out and intruding, I murmur “what’s the password?” He throws his head back – probably reaching his physical contact limit in this moment – he lets his face fall to mine, gives me an I-will-kick-your-ass-if-you-don’t-let-me-go kind of look, and gives me what I’ve compelled. My grip loosens as I laugh and return to the dishes. He knows the password, and no matter how many times I torture him with belly to belly, chest to chest bear hugs, I get the cheek for more than a handful of attempts. The last kiss is the password, and for now, I’ll leave him alone until we meet under the sheets, and say goodnight.
A few weeks ago, S and I traveled to Minnesota to visit a great friend of mine. Whenever I meet up with ST, no matter where we are, it’s like no time has passed. Immediately we picked up right where we left off, and the shenanigans to be had weren’t far behind. We would party pretty hard in college, being part of Big Ten marching band (Go Hoosiers), so it was no surprise that the liquor store was our first stop on the way to his gorgeous new house. S and I had been anticipating the trip for a while, and were excited to hang out with ST and RG more. We don’t have very many gay friends in Indianapolis – we could make more of an effort, but we stay tired, and like saving money – so being able to kickback with another young, fun and professional, gay-married couple was an instant highlight for 2015’s itinerary.
None of us were the going out types anymore. ST and I have always been partial to house parties, so we talked about going out to a gay bar, but opted for a brewery tour instead. A good beer, day-drinking and gays are always an instant win; even more so when you get to flex your queen muscles with your clique to ward of the hurt feelings of young queens in your tour group. Long story short, one guy in the group, clearly gay, made a fool of himself with his overly animated reactions to our tour guide, and we may have laughed and poked some fun at him; all in good fun. Surly Brewing Company turned out to have pretty amazing beer, and the tour was very cool for S and I since we do some home-brewing with friends back home.
Minneapolis is beautiful. It reminded us of a more “hip” Indianapolis, but I definitely understood what ST and RG meant when they explained “Minneapolis wants to be Portland so bad.” They have a point there, but the city was cute and chic nonetheless. Most of the trip was spent hanging out, playing with their beautiful puppy Daisy – a Rhodesian Ridgeback – drinking, and nerding out with a few rounds of Pandemic. Don’t ask me how we cleared a handle of Kettle One vodka and a handle of Jameson in four days, but we did it. We all felt the pain after doing shots, and realized we had evolved when we were all popping multi-vitamins before passing out, to combat the hangovers that would greet us the following mornings. I don’t know if we thanked them for that tip, but we SO appreciated it. August will mark ten years of ST and I knowing each other, and I’m already looking forward to another visit to Minnesota, a couple’s trip somewhere together, or hosting them in Indianapolis. It was fun boys!
How amazing was yesterday? It is now legal for my LGBTQ brothers and sisters to get married in ALL, say it again, ALL 50 states. YES!
This is S and I on our wedding day – May 16, 2014. I’m so happy that we can celebrate this victory during the month of PRIDE, and that others can now have a happy-cake-cutting-moment without having to travel outside of their home cities.
I’m so proud of the country. There is still a lot of learning and growing to be done in America when it comes to equality, but this is a giant step. Everyone celebrate. Have a drink or eat some carbs. We did it!
Hello everyone! Sorry I’ve been in and out of the blog as of late. It’s only been a couple weeks since my last post, I think, but I fully intend to hop back on the wagon SOON! Excuses aren’t cute by any means, but the husband and I have been extremely busy.
Last week our home desktop computer decided that it wanted to crash, in the middle of my husband prepping for a final exam, just before we were to leave for Minneapolis to visit friends, and that left us with one laptop to share. We returned to Indianapolis on Monday, after having an absolute blast in Golden Gopher territory for four days, and are just now coming off that “vacation” feeling of laziness.
I would like to have a post up by this weekend, but I will make no promises. I plan to write a little about our time with our friends up in Minnesota, but S is still monopolizing the laptop. Education is important, and his final is tomorrow, so I won’t snatch the device away from him, lol.
So I apologize for the delay! But in the meantime, keep up with me on social media across these platforms:
Be looking for a post soon! Share past posts with your friends and family! And as always, I thank you for the love. Talk to you all soon.
So the The Last Slice of our wedding cake actually tasted pretty damned good after spending a year in the shadows of our freezer. S didn’t actually have any of it, and I absolutely demolished it after I had a hearty amount of champagne in my system. Maybe he would have had some if I asked again – I think you all are learning that I’m a little impatient – but my drunken-not-wanting-to-cook-anything self said “quit picking at this cake and just finish it. ” The gluten-free, red velvet materpiece was still so soft, moist, and melted in my mouth. I could feel a most devious look forming on my face as I took the last bite, and memories from the day it was given to us played in my memory. I’m not even sure S was looking to eat any of that last slice of cake. It’s been almost a month, and he hasn’t said anything about the thawed dessert’s absence. Oh well! It was delicious.
I’m cheating on my husband with Matthew McConaughey. Can you believe it? I don’t really go for lighter-haired men, but in this case I can most certainly make an exception. My husband and I started HBO’s True Detective several months back – last summer, I believe – and we just kind of fell out of the show after a few episodes. There was nothing bad about the show, but our problem was having too many shows to keep track of, so True Detective was dropped from our active queue. S has a habit of starting a show, and not wanting to finish it – which is more than fair because, sometimes you just can’t get into a show – and Game of Thrones was a casualty after I’d got him to watch the first three seasons. “You can’t just stop the series after the red wedding!” What was this man thinking?
Last week I was listening to a new favorite podcast of mine – Last Name Basis, hosted by married couple Patrick and Franchesca – and they were discussing what shows they watched together, and which shows they watch without each other. Most of the time they watch the same shows, but because of work schedules, traveling for work, and other life factors, they can’t always watch them together. Depending on which show it was, they would either wait, or go ahead and watch without the other. There was a moment where Patrick faked having finished Netflix series, House of Cards, and Franchesca – taking the bait – almost went into a how-dare-you type of rage. I thought this was absolutely hilarious, and that moment popped back into my head today, at work, as I was restarting True Detective’s first season. “There’s no way he will ever find out…”
I realize that by sharing this topic with the blogosphere that I may, in fact, tell on myself if S decides to read my recent entries. I will laugh so hard if he brings up the fact that I restarted the show without him – because then I’d know he’s reading Gays in the Life. Whenever I ask if he’d like to watch something we haven’t paid attention to in a while, and he answers “no, not yet…” I have to follow up with the question “…am I going to have to watch this one without you, too?” He’ll usually answer “no, don’t!’ and then months go by with no attempts made to watch the program. I couldn’t help myself this time. The trailer for season two of True Detective is completely mesmeric, they’re making amazing additions to the cast – Vince Vaugh, Rachael McAdams, and Colin Farrell – and my interest is fully engaged, once again. Come June 21st, I will be present and ready for a new episode.
A handful of months back, I asked my husband to help me with one of my entries for Gays in the Life. I had the crazy idea to write a blog entry where we shared our pet peeves, and talked openly about the things that secretly drive us crazy when it comes to one another. He let out an incredulous laugh, and then proceeded to ask “is that a good idea?” I believed deep down that it was a good idea, but perhaps my inner artist was feeling a little too hungry. Writing a blog entry like this with my husband could offer a fun, real, and honest peek into our marriage and everyday life, but I wondered if my ambitious spirit was approaching an edge that we – because I’d have to consider his feelings, along with mine – weren’t quite ready to dance upon. Would I be taking a bite out of something we couldn’t quite chew? Issues we couldn’t quite swallow?
Almost all of my friends were in and out of relationships before I met my husband. Having a front row seat to every argument, scolding, and various other quibbles helped me realized that, depending on the couple, the smallest annoyance could cause a relationship to crumble, crash, and burn. Remembering those couples and scrolling through memories of their successful, or failed, relationships ignited my current thoughts on whether or not our relationship – our fresh marriage – could survive knowing each other’s hidden pet peeves. Obviously I would say my marriage could survive, but we have to keep a realistic view in regards to our relationships with ourselves – inside the marriage – and as one unit; because every moment isn’t peaches and cream. At this point, we know what sets each other off, but these triggers were discovered as our relationship developed over the years.
Knowing if, and when, the truth is too much, is another factor that should be considered. Initially when I was playing with the idea of doing this joint piece with my husband, the spirit was light and fun, with no thoughts of potential darkness in mind. Couples can be one hundred percent open, and still have things they keep to themselves. S’s questioning whether or not the unborn blog entry was a good idea bred life to this notion, and invited a small amount of darkness and negativity into my well-intended burst of creativity. Surely we, of all couples, could survive knowing what makes the other tick like a time-bomb, right? The answer to that question would depend on what each trigger was, and the only way to obtain the answer, is to actually move forward with my plan – for the joint blog entry – and discuss them. It’s a devilishly hilarious thing, and the answer remains unknown.
Tuesday nights he has class. Any other night, he gets home about an hour after I do, and the usual weeknight routine of hanging out and decompressing on the couch together commences. Best Coast plays in the background as I sit here at the kitchen table; trying my best to think of something to do, or decide which band I should listen to next on Tidal. Boredom hits me pretty hard every once in a while, and most of the time will guide me in a very unproductive and lazy direction. This was almost one of those instances, but some nagging energy from within managed to place my ass in this chair in front of this computer screen.
“What to do, what to do?” Tonight was the first night I went walking, solo, on the trail near our condo. The weather was too charming for me not to get an extra workout in, and despite violent winds, I enjoyed my hour stroll around Eagle Creek. “Now what?” I’m glad we canceled our cable, because even the streaming services were failing me, and YouTube was not piquing my interest in the slightest. “I guess I’ll shower.” I showered because I was bored, and continued to avoid cleaning the refrigerator; something I’ve been meaning to do for the past few weeks. The intensity of my walk was no more than that of walking a dog, so a shower most definitely was not a need, but it was something to do. “I wish he were home… then at least he could be in charge of picking what show we watch… or we could play Mario Kart… Do I want to play Mario Kart?
Significant others, boyfriends, or girlfriends make the time pass easier during these bored moments. I can’t stand being bored and alone, because I can never decide what I want to do. “What do you want to do?” is a common response to him asking me “What do you want to do?” At least if he were here, being lame and bored with me, I’d have someone to interact with while scrolling through Netflix listings. No activity, show, or chore sounds remotely appealing at the moment, so sitting here listening to music and attempting to write something seems to be the best way to battle boredom’s persistent energy. I have one hour or so until S walks through the door. Let’s see if I can finish this post by then.
It’s one o’clock in the afternoon, and I’m breaking my no-coffee-after-noon rule. “Hey, man! You doing alright?” My office crush (OC) enters the break room, and the zombie-like state I’m in quickly morphs into blazing excitement. “I’m doing well, how about you?” His resemblance to an old ex of mine is truly uncanny. He’s on the shorter side with dark hair, warm eyes, and a charm that’s irresistible. While I don’t crave him sexually, his energy warrants the presence of subtle flirtation; this is fun when you work a regular 9-to-5, monolithic job.
There’s something about me that screams “tell me all of your business” to people – a superpower of sorts – and OC has fallen victim to this influence. Our exchanges are usually filled with talk of my husband, his girlfriend – yes, he’s straight, of course – or him asking me where I get my sweaters. Using my powers for good, I take the opportunity to give into the moment; giving him the most neutral, hetero-tailored advice I could provide without losing eye contact. Using my eyes as a tool to convey everything you shouldn’t say to someone at work – regarding their overall attractiveness, and other innocent, not work-appropriate thoughts – I listen, engage, and enjoy the view.
At the end of what felt like a split second, he smiles and heads back to his desk. I chuckle and do the same. I fully encourage the conditioning of whatever superpower you hold, and challenge you to perfect it to your highest ability. People are drawn to me, and I’ve always been aware of my flirting ability, so I use it to keep my skills fresh and spicy for my relationship, but I can also use my gifts to help people… minus the flirtation… or could that also help someone? I won’t test that theory.
Do you ever feel like you’re talking to yourself? You get some bright idea, mention that idea, and end up going in a completely different direction by way of his idea. I’d been craving a burrito bowl for quite some time now. In passing, I would bring up the idea for dinner during our weekly grocery shopping together; never sulking or souring if we didn’t get ingredients for the meal. When you’re following a low-carb diet – and we have been for over a year now – it can be hard to keep your eating options fresh and exciting. I retain a subtle want for a burrito bowl because I know I’d never be disappointed with one, and it would mix up my day-to-day eating habits.
I can’t remember the last time we had this favored menu item of mine, and while red meat is zero carbs and high in good fat – perfect for our diet – burgers and steaks get old. “Hey, would you want to make the burrito bowls this weekend?” The inner chubby kid of my past burned more calories exerting a disgustingly thirsty grin at the mention of the desired meal. My craving for this specific meal is well tamed as long as the thought is out of sight, and out of mind. As soon as I hear any mention of a burrito bowl, I immediately want one. I’m not one to hound anyone over what’s for dinner, but I know I’d made a solid attempt in pitching the idea more than a few times between early October and now.
Pan-seared chicken over cauliflower rice, with chopped onions, crisp spinach, Verde salsa, jalapenos, Pico de Gallo, spicy guacamole, and a dash of shredded Colby Jack cheese. It was the purest form of delicious. What made the meal even better was that he listened. Sure it might have taken him a while – and sure, I could have organized the meal myself, or pressed him more about it – but he came through. Part of being a significant other is listening to each other, and it’s the little things like unplanned burrito bowls that help remind you that he is listening.