Stories from a man who fails to meet media expectations of what it means to be gay:
white, frivolous, over sexed yet sexless, shrill, single, stylish, a clown, unimportant, et al.

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Sleep

Last monday night:

John and I are in bed talking about our day and making plans for the next week. Eventually, John says good night and actually goes to sleep. I don't. Instead, I lie there trying to fall asleep. My eyes are closed and my mind is going a mile a minute, thinking, remembering.

There was a summer when I seven or so, when I spent the week at my T�as house in Pomona. I was walking to the store to buy ice cream with my primos and the sidewalk was so hot under my bare feet.

I remember a different summer day spent at Hermosa Beach. A really cute guy smiled at me. I half smiled back and he walked over to talk with me. I was only eighteen and too shy and inexperienced to know what to do or how to handle the situation.

There was one September in college when I went caving with my ex JonR. It was cool in the lave tubes, but the drive through the desert in his old beat up car was hot and uncomfortable.

I am definitely too warm, so I try to kick off the blanket without disturbing John. I try to relax and fall sleep again. I have to write a performance assessment report for one of the staff at work and I don't want to. What am I going to write when I can't think of anything positive to say about the guy?

I'll need to put gas in the car soon. I've only enough for maybe two more days.

I can't remember if the meeting next Wednesday was postponed or not, I have to remember to double check tomorrow morning at work.

One of the cats just jumped up onto the bed and is now standing next to my head. I don't bother to open my eyes to check who it is. It must be Baby, Jet rarely does that. I can tell she is staring at me the way that cats do sometimes. I try to think about nothing.

I half remember a recurring dream I used to have about running down the freeway in the middle of traffic. For some dream logic reason people running along with speeding cars was perfectly acceptable. The dream always made me anxious, so I think about something else instead.

I think about a time I was walking through Aldrich park at UCI with Matt. I was nineteen and he was eighteen. He was smart, had a sexy English accent and was very handsome. I was rapidly falling in love with him, unfortunately he didn't feel same way about me.

Baby gets tired of staring at me and leaves. Of course, being a cat, she decides to climb up on top of John and walk down the length of his body, so she can jump to the floor from his feet. John makes some complaining noises, but doesn't wake up. There is a party or something that John and I have to be at this week, but I can't remember the date, time or even what the event is. I try to remember, but end up thinking about Disneyland instead for some reason.

I was there with Kristen for Gay Night one year back when they had gay nights. We were walking over to the Haunted Mansion, when we passed a large group of gym queens who were all wearing tall "princess" hats and waving fairy wands at everyone. They were laughing and having the time of their lives.

I was there for grad night back in High School as well. A bunch of us were riding on the train, because we were tired of walking. We had been having an animated conversation about something when we noticed a photographer taking photos of us. Being smartass teenagers, we then became very quiet and stoic.

I remember what the event is now. ChrisC is having a birthday party Wednesday night. It's going to be at the hotel where her boyfriend the chef works. It's going to be a huge hassle to get there, but we have to go. You only turn fifty once. The hotel is in Buena Park, hence the Disneyland connection. Although, that doesn't make much sense. Dizzyland is in Anaheim, Knott's Berry Farm is in Buena Park, so why remember times at the one park instead of the other?

John's breathing changes, then he turns over on his side. I take this opportunity to move over and hold him. We lie there spooning and I'm still trying to fall asleep. I think about sitting at the old Little Frieda's drinking a soda while listening to Tee talk about her disastrous love life as she sips her coffee. There was a cute African American lesbian couple flirting as they played pool that night, or was that a different night or a different coffee house?

I remember standing in a grove of trees behind the Awainee hotel in Yosemite waiting for Carlos and Beth's wedding to start. An angry squirrel had started throwing pine cones down at us and everyone was laughing. I remember standing there next to John holding his hand.

I'm smiling a big smile now, lying there listening to John breathe, still thinking, still remembering.

There was one Saturday night in Weho walking to Studio One with Kristen, or was it Axis by then? I don't remember, but I can recall the sudden downpour that forced us and several other people into one of the coffee houses that line Santa Monica Blvd. We were wet and laughing and trying to figure out what to buy and eat while waiting for the rain to let up.

Making out with Tony in his dad's truck the summer after High School. It was both exciting and nerve racking. I was only seventeen and still hadn't come to terms with the entire I am gay issue.

How angry I was with JonR when he told me that he was breaking up with me, that we weren't working out as a couple. That he didn't have what I wanted or needed, meaning that he didn't want to be confined by me anymore.

I move away from John and look at the clock, it takes me a minute to focus on it, but it turns out that only forty minutes have passed. It's going to be a long night, so I roll back over to John, hug him, close my eyes and try to sleep again.

More later,

nico

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