After one 12-step meeting, three guys invited me to nearby Crew, a popular gay/straight sports bar in Uptown...I felt like a puppy out of a cage. It was so exhilarating to be out of the house, among my fellow gays and socializing with dozens and dozens of men (and women) of all types. The enormous screen projecting a basketball game didn't grab my attention for more than a few seconds, but my neck got quite the workout scanning the room and the men.
As I've said to some L.A. friends, there might be more bona-fide "knockouts" in Los Angeles in terms of looks and muscle, but, that said, I find Chicago/Midwestern men to be infinitely more appealing, interesting, sexy and multi-dimensional. Men in Southern California are so consciously aware of being attractive or wanting to be perceived as attractive, that it becomes a studied landscape instead of a breathing, vital human being. I remember eight years or so ago, when I went to Wales and Scotland for the first time, I found the men to be the most attractive I had ever seen...mostly, because they were so unaware or so unconcerned with their good looks and even the 'lesser gods' among them were magnetic because they didn't have a studied or put-upon sense of self or masculinity; it was the real deal, and from the land of tanning beds, steroids, personal trainers, Botox, facial fillers and hair plugs, it was incredibly refreshing. The same is true for Chicago. Men might not hit the gym every day, they might carry a few extra pounds because of winter hibernation, but their ease within themselves, being comfortable in their own skin, and their 'take it or leave it' attitude, devoid of preening and plucking, gets me hot under the..collar. Thankfully, I havent' seen a 'murse' aka manpurse anywhere...!
This past Sunday, MS and her hubby and I had brunch with one of my oldest friends, JK, and her lover, MD. I've known JK since high school (!) and we even 'dated' for some time. Since those long-ago years, we both crossed the fence to the other side and shed our straight skins, as it were. She, unlike me, alas, has the gift for attracting the right person and sustaining long-term relationships (and her partner is a gem and a pip of a gal, as they used to say). We met a few weeks ago, the three of us, and carried on like magpies, and this recent Sunday brunch at the fabu Wishbone on Lincoln, was all the more so, because I was able to introduce MS and her hubby to JJ and MD...when worlds collide, old and new friends meet and new bonds are formed.
On Friday, MS is meeting for the first time another friend of mine, GW, here at the house (to catch up on the tornado of renovation afoot). GW is also stopping by to visit Handyman, as it was she who introduced me to "my Polish brother" when I kick-started the renovation at the end of February; my gosh, it seems like six months ago! Handyman is also bringing his sheepdog that day (our first introduction) so I can practice having a pet at least for five hours. From there, MS and I are going to an art exhibit opening which involves my AA sponsor, so it will be yet another case of integrating the various pieces of my new life in Chicago.
I'm planning a trip to L.A. in mid-May. I'm looking forward to it. I have a couple of appointments and I want to clear out my storage facility and ship boxes of archive materials here. After all, what is this near-empty basement for, if not to save me $115 a month in storage fees? I have the ongoing dilemma of what to do with my 12" LP's...I've had some of them since I was a kid, many from in my teens, and while I don't play 'em and really don't need 'em, I can't think of parting with them...at least yet. A dear friend is holding them for me, but I really at some point soon have to ask myself, do I want to pay storage year after year for things I never open, never use and never will need again, just for sentimental value? I might be able to sell them, but I'm not sure there is a wide market for 560 Judy Garland albums, MGM movie soundtracks and scratchy LPs of Margaret Whiting, Ella, Doris Day, Billie, and the cast albums of No, No, Nanette, Irene, Good News and a warped copy of Barbra's "Stoney End."
I'm looking forward to seeing my friends in L.A., of course, and it will be interesting to be there as a visitor and not as a resident. Today, the weather was glorious (there's that word again for Chicago weather!) and it hit a high of 71 degrees! You sort of get selective amnesia (the way I do when I go on another bad online date after swearing them off four days earlier) and the snow and sleet and frostbite and shoveling sort of blurs into sunlight hitting your face. At this moment, there is no place I'd rather be than here in Chicago. I notice subtle changes in me: I've gotten used to the local '773' area code and when I call friends in L.A., I sometimes forget to dial '323' or '818' -- yesterday, for a moment, I forgot the phone number of an old friend I was calling on my cell phone; I had to shut the phone, look up his number on my computer...
This has been the most uprooting, life-changing time of my life, the last six months, but, even at its most rigorously challenging and exhausting moments, I wouldn't change a thing. For the first time in a very long time, I know I'm where I should be...and where I want to be.
On Saturday, one of the neighbors invited me to a pancake breakfast social at the local church to be held next weekend. It sounds like fun. And how nice, how flattering, to be asked, to be included. Another neighbor, 85 year-old Catherine, next door, saw me outside the other day walking to my car (with a tile sample in my hand, of course) and put her arm around me and said, "Do you have plans the last Sunday of this month?" (Pat, pat on my back, hug, hug.) "No, I don't think so...what do you have in mind?" "You are my friend, aren't you?" I said, "Um, of course I am...why?" She demurred, "My church is having a 'bring a friend to church day' on that Sunday and I'd like to bring you....will you come?" I said yes.
I'm on the church and pancake circuit...and that's the only kind of circuit party I know these days...and it's just fine with me. Especially when it's all you can eat for five bucks.
1 comment:
There IS something tedious and unattractive about men obsessed with their appearance, isn't there? Love me that Midwest beef, with or without jelly roll! Yes, Dorothy, there's no place like home.
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