Don't Know / Not Sure

Once upon a time, I used the phrase in a context I swore would get me in trouble.

It involved a survey I filled out on sexual health and in the demographic information the respondent was asked about their gender.  Besides the usual male and female they also had FTM, MTF, genderqueer and a few others that I don't recall.  I quipped, "Where's 'Don't know / Not sure?'"

Immediately after saying that I feared that I would be subject to a tirade along the lines of, "How DARE you even THINK about making such a comment on someone's gender you,  you,  you MICROAGRESSOR!

And someone is probably saying that as they read this.

Anyway, the response I actually got was, "Hmmmm, maybe we should put that choice in next time."

And there will probably be someone who will be happy about having their gender identity acknowledged because they are still figuring it out.

So what brought this on?

Well, I was reading another article about kids who do not identify with their biological gender.  This one had a theme of these kids needing puberty delaying medications to keep from going through the trauma of puberty until such time as they can start hormone therapy.  I'm passing on that debate, but I did notice something.

All the kids in the article (and many like them) were Anglo.

Aren't there kids of other ethnicities dealing with the same set of issues?  Yeah, I know the answer is, "Of course there are," but the media doesn't seem to portray their struggles.

So hopefully I did my part in noting the lack of diversity on this one.

The Online Dating Nightmare

Not for me on this one, because my posterior got saved.  Woo hoo!

First, my housemate is really into looking for persons to have encounters with via several online dating sites.  I'll peek, but I have no intention of making it the main source.

Anyway, he chatted with this guy and the guy was arrogant and presumptive of certain things. I got the blow by blow after the conversation.  Guess who is on my feed on a dating site?  Bingo.  I decided not to pursue based on the conversation.

And at the rate online dating is going, I am going to do the logical thing.  Wander around and say hi to the people who flash gang signs at me.  You never know who they know.

A Twofer. Counting Blessings and Getting a Look from the Inside.

Saturday night was interesting.  I spent it with the guy I told you about in my post Karma Wins.  It was a fun evening and I really enjoyed getting to watch Family Guy with a fan.  I also met the husband, and was reminded what I was going through with Rick.  He was gracious in offering up his guest Casita for me to spend the night (and I needed it too as a surprise expense came up.)

Anyhow, he lives near San Diego State and I woke up at the insane hour of 4.00 AM to get the 215 Rapid to Downtown to get the trolley to Iris Avenue and the connecting bus to the storage locker to grab my stuff and head to Palm Springs.

This bus runs hourly and I wound up with a 40 minute wait for the next one.  Five minutes into the wait two Border Patrol officers offered me a ride to the Trolley (Beyer Blvd which is one stop down.)

That was an interesting ride.  I learned a little about their job and office banter and they learned more about the life of a frequent flyer as far as border crossing is concerned.  I even gave one of them the gay male perspective on their developing mustache.  The also appreciated the props I gave for PedWest.

And let's face it.  Behind the Kevlar vests, cops are people too.

Anyway, I promise to pay these forward.

Winter Storms

First off, your idea and my idea of winter storms may be different as I lived in the San Francisco Bay Area for 24 years and in SoCal / Baja for the past year and a month.

Tijuana got hit with 55mm of rain today (that's a little over two inches for those who are using that other ruler.)  As it rained, I remembered all the torrential rains in San Francisco as well as the time it literally rained for 40 days and 40 nights.  Between dodging them, waiting out squalls in bars and hearing the rain pound the roof I didn't mind them too much.  Driving in it is another story, and I try to avoid that one like the plague.

Anyway, today I was reminded of two encounters.  One, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away (OK, San Antonio when I was 20,) and the other one that happened two years ago.

In the first situation, I wound up with the college roommate from hell.  I met someone and he invited me over to his place near what was then known as Windsor Park Mall.  It was raining hard that night and we spent the night talking, had sex, went out for coffee at 4 AM, and I went home on the first bus out.  It was an interesting encounter that I appreciated, because I did not have to be near that bastard of a roommate.

The second one involved the Amate.  I told him I wanted to have sex with him.  One night, there was a torrential rain, and he said that I shouldn't worry about him.  It got worse, and he asked me if he could come over.  I said yes, and he came over.  We had a nightcap, talked and he slept in my bed that night.  I got no sleep as I was sitting in my chair with a stupid grin watching him sleep.  I got what I wanted.

He got what he wanted too.  Shelter from the storm.  I'll admit I got what I wanted as well.  A wonderful gentleman with a brain that was fully functional to spend time with and love.

So, hopefully the rest of the week will go well and I get a new client.

Look Around and Listen Up

I was reading a blog posting in which the author noted that she was having a hard time with people who are sympathetic with cross border living.

I was surprised.

In the year and two months I have been splitting time between San Diego and the Coachella Valley, I have met a lot of people who do better at cross border living than I.  Basically, I just kept my eyes open.  Rides on the 905 bus to Otay (and the ride from Otay to Plaza Rio) have given me insights AND I met people who cross more often than I do.  In talking with them, I have learned various and sundry survival hints, how to stretch Dollars and Pesos (a priority of mine) and passed on some of mine.  It really has been a learning experience.

Anyway, except for this weekend, I'm here and I feel like I'm home.

Why hindsight is 20/20

First, happy Labor Day.

Last Labor Day weekend, I was in Tijuana.  I wanted to hang out that weekend and decided to stay through Labor day and return the Tuesday afterward instead of dealing with the line at the border which is VERY long on Sunday.

That weekend was the start of my odyssey in which I have spent more time outside of my official base than inside it.  Over the past year, I have spent more time outside of San Diego than inside.  A good chunk of that was in Tijuana.

It was also the weekend that should have made me sit up, take notice and realize that things were not going to go as planned.

You see, the very first weekend after my arrival, I hit Tijuana.  I went out and met a delightful young man who wondered what I was doing all by my lonesome in a bar.  I told him that I was recently widowed, and wanted to go out and had no one to go out with.  He then introduced himself and invited me to meet his friends.

I chatted all of them up and told the young man that I hoped to see him again.

Fast forward to Labor Day weekend.

Of course I ran into him again.

And he spent the night with me.

The raciest thing that happened was a request from him to be Facebook friends.

I get out my laptop to set it up and ask for his name on Facebook.  His maternal last name was Rick's paternal last name.

This deer got caught in the headlights.  I then explained the whole thing and his mom (Rick's niece that I knew existed but never met) later confirmed that her son is Rick's grand nephew.

THAT should have been the point where I should have realized this was not going to be going as planned.

And that is a good thing.

It Only Took Seven Years

Seven years ago this weekend, a major crisis happened.

Rick admitted to something that for me was a dealbreaker.

I won't go into details, but he said he did something that affected me that was so outrageous, I was close to the point to saying, "I'm sorry.  You went too far.  It's over."

As I was hurtling toward that point and screaming at the top of my lungs over what he did, he started going into bargaining mode.

Amongst the other chips he offered up was, "You can have a boyfriend if you want to."

I then picked up a gig that kept me in San Francisco for a while.

Shortly thereafter I met the amante.

And after that Rick was diagnosed with dementia.

Three years later I dated and fell in love with the amante.

After that, I asked him out on a date.

He flaked.

I then met the guy I hang out with when I am in the Coachella Valley.

Which means that sometimes getting from Point A to Point B takes a while.

Another thing about Labor Day Weekend.  This time last year, I decided to screw it and spend the entire long weekend in Tijuana.  This has morphed into spending longer and longer stints there.

The next one will last three weeks.

Oh, and did I mention during that last long weekend, I found out that the guy I met was Rick's grand nephew?

Karma is interesting.

Very interesting.