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!
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.
For two years now, S and I have known that we would name our puppy Reynold. We were expecting to breed S’s family dog, Petey, last summer, but his female counterpart never came into heat; biology can be so raunchy sounding when it wants. On June 1st, 2015, Petey and Lily’s puppies were born:
The goal in breeding Petey and Lily (the pup’s mother) was to get more black and tan Rat Terriers, as you don’t see very many with that color combo. A dog’s first litter tends to be small, so I guessed there would be four puppies total, and S guessed six. S was the winner because five males, and one female were born. So far the wait has been worth it, and we could not have got any luckier with the results. In the litter, there’s one all black female, a black and white male, and the rest are black and tan; exactly what we wanted, AND we get options! Lily is mostly black with some tan and white coloring, but Petey’s look is what we and S’s parent’s were hoping for:
I mentioned adopting a puppy this summer if Lily didn’t come into heat, so these puppies are right on time! I’ve been having puppy fever for a couple years now, so waiting a few more weeks to pick our puppy – we get first pick as a stud fee – and spend some time with him is the hardest thing right now; not to mention every weekend until the weekend we meet him is booked, so there’s no chance of sneaking down early. I can’t wait to meet our first fur child. I’m excited for this new adventure, and I think it’s pretty cool that our first puppy is a direct descendant of S’s family dog. I hate that “rat” is in the name of our dog’s breed, but they really are sweet, clever, cute little things. I consider dogs to be close to the same level as children. If i’m caring for another life, it won’t be a half-assed job, and Reynold will probably be spoiled beyond belief… because of me, BUT he will be trained and have manners (lol); he’s even going to be on a grain-free diet like his daddies. It’ll be fun to see how S and I parent together, but mostly it should be a great time. We’re both really excited about welcoming him into our home, early August, and we cannot wait to share more pictures and entries about our adventures with Sir Reynold in the future.
“NO! You have to save that piece to eat on your first anniversary!” M’s voice filled our kitchen with both protest and excitement. The gluten-free, red-velvet, cream-cheese-frosted cake she had made for our wedding day was beyond delicious, and I wanted nothing more than to take another bite out of the lonely slice of its remains. This Saturday is my husband and I’s first marriage anniversary, and that last piece of delicious memorabilia – that’s been hiding under alcohol and frozen meat – has survived the year and would meet its end come May 16th. I wasn’t familiar with the cake tradition at all until M shared it with us that day in our kitchen, and the pending arrival of our first anniversary has me wondering if holding on to that one, last piece of cake means something. Out of sight out of mind is the notion that comes to mind almost immediately. “The first year of marriage is the hardest” is what every tells you when you tie the knot, and much like our frozen slice of wedding cake, married life blinked right by us in a time-warped state of reality. Has it really already been a year? I guess this slice of cake will be even better than tasting it for the first time, because it’s serving as some kind of reward for getting through our first year as husbands. Our relationship has always been smooth sailing; crossing choppy waters here and there, but never truly rocking the boat. As I think about eating this cake, exactly a year from when I tried to finish it off, a dormant excitement is awakened. I haven’t taken the time at all to note, or keep track of anything we’ve done during our first year of marriage! We did move from our one-bedroom apartment to a lofted condo, AND we are expecting our first fur child – a rat terrier puppy we plan to name Reynold, and who’s a direct descendant of S’s family dog. This first year of marriage has been out of sight and out of mind. It was a good year, and eating this cake will give us a great excuse to reflect and really honor our first year of marriage. I want to thank M for sharing this tradition with the both us, because come this Saturday finishing the cake we started a year ago will mean so much to both my husband, and myself.
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.
During the winter months, much like bears of the North, S and I tend to hibernate. Whether knowingly, or unknowingly, most couples tend to practice some form of hibernation when summer is farther away than we’d like to admit (because, screw Jack Frost). Some fall completely off everyone’s radar, and others go from one-hundred to a solid twenty-five on the social scale. Yesterday, S and I left the comfort of our condo, and had lunch with two friends – former roommates from the Indiana U dorm days. The weather was surprisingly warm and welcoming for a February day in Indianapolis, and we had a great time catching up and laughing at their one-and-a-half-year-old. A habitual and frequent goal of ours is to do nothing more than stay home and relax as soon as we leave work on Fridays. Usually we’ve planned too much or we’re visiting family, so taking full advantage of not having any commitments in our queue, and keeping hard earned coins in our pockets – and not on the countertops of downtown Indianapolis bars – is pretty great. When I think about it, our hibernation period is probably due to preparation for the summer. Summer is when we stay pretty social; having people over, and going to our favorite spots around town. Being completely real, it seems as though our motivation levels match the season. Winter is dark, cold, and lazy… So thankfully, we both have the option of working out at our workplaces.
The sun enters my bedroom, and I hazily welcome its warmth. It’s quiet on the dark, wooden nightstand, where I spend most of my days, and where my owner has left me, alone, again – I’m always alone. What the hell? In the stores, they tell us wedding bands that we represent the many bonds of love, and that we are so important, and that people are going to love showing us off. If that’s the case, then why do I spend so much time sitting on this nightstand? Like tanned skin in the winter, my glimmering titanium exterior has begun to fade; accepting each layer of dust without declaration. My partner – a titanium and black zirconium ring – gets all of the action. That slut has his owner’s finger going in and out of him over the entire course of the day. Doesn’t he get tired? I mean, servicing the same finger every single day must be exhausting, but isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Hell, I don’t know. He must be using awesome lube; cocoa butter lotion, if I had to guess. Let me stop, though. Because at least my partner is getting some action… and I’m beginning to sound like a jealous queen. I love my owner. Sure, he may forget about me some days, but it’s not all days, I guess. Here on this nightstand is where I will stay, until he is ready to take me out for a day. I imagine it could be worse. At least I’m not locked up in that miserable glass case anymore…