Things Often Happen for a Reason

I believe that a lot of things happen in life for a reason. Actually, sometimes I believe that; sometimes I pretend to believe that after I had done stupid things.

This leads to the story of my first "long-term" boyfriend. I met him through one of the online dating websites. He lived about 9 hours driving from me. He was a very good-looking man in his profile photo. In person, he was not as good-looking but not bad. He was 6 ft, 175lbs, had psoriasis. He was not comfortable about his psoriasis, but I was.

Psoriasis wasn't something I had to overlook. I didn't see that as one of the negative criteria in getting to know him and loving him. Yet, there were other things that I tried to overlook. Anyway, he was planning on transferring to my city to get to know me. However, he changed his plan and moved to the Virgin Islands for a job that might have furthered his career. I promised to wait for him for two years. He promised to visit me every three months (He didn't).

For the whole two years, I could rarely contact him whenever I wanted to. His phone was usually either off or not answered. His voice mail was pretty much all the time full. He had many excuses. The only time we talked was every night when he got off work, which was between midnight and 1 a.m. So, I waited every night for him so he could unload his burden on me. The conversations were usually about the bad things that happened at his work. On his off days, it was as difficult to contact him.

Even though he always said he loved me, his action didn't show it. I was not convinced. I tried to break up with him a couple of times, but he begged me not to, very earnestly. On one hand, I was very frustrated. On the other, I felt bad that he had to work and live in harsh conditions overseas. All I needed was being able to feel that he loved me. That was enough for me to wait for him, even for more than two years.

At the end of the two years, he got laid off and moved back to the Northeast. That was the last draw for me. I didn't have to feel sorry for him any more. I wasn't afraid that he was lonely any more. I cut off the relationship.

He, to this date, still claims that he loved me very much though admitted he should have put more effort. We are at peace with each other now. But I don't love him. I am not sure if the love I gave him was out of love for another human being or the love for who he really was.

I still care for him as a friend. I don't regret the two years I waited for him. I think of this period as the time my ankle was chained up just to be released in time to meet Jim, whose love for me I don't have to question (though he's often MEAN to me).

Things often happen for a reason. Some things that seem bad at the time might have been good things for the future.

What Gives!

What Gives...

Does this phrase sound gay to you? It does, doesn't it? I first heard this in the Golden Girls. I think both Rose and Blanch said it. Yes, both of them said it. Trust me.

Why do people say that gay men love the Golden Girls? I don't get it. What gives! This does sound gay! I'll probably never say it again. What gives!

Yesterday, I saw this man from Nepal. He was one of those men who had no concepts of hygiene. I mean, if you are one of those people who sweat a lot, wear some deodorants! What gives! He didn't. The fumes just spurted out in waves. I almost got an asthma attack. But that wasn't "what gives".

His son told me he had a rash in his "difficult" area. What gives? "You mean his groin area? His penis? His buttock?" I asked the son. I was scared stiff...danger zone. I was going to have to examine that "difficult" area of a 60 year old man who had, really,...a really bad smell exploding from his armpits. Who knew what was in there.

I have taken care of patients who are construction workers, landscapers who come in after work and smell bad. But, I don't think anything of it. They work hard. Of course, they are bound to sweat and smell. That is OK. That is understandable. This man, on the other hand, doesn't work. And, honest, I don't think he takes showers. My best bet is once a week.

So, I called one of my male staff in to be my chaperon. I asked the patient to step down from the exam table and stand in front of me. He did. I signaled him to pull down his pants. He said, "No." I thought he didn't understand me. So, I asked his son to tell him to pull his pants down. He said, "No." I told him I wouldn't be able to know how to treat him if I couldn't see the rash. He said, "No." WHAT GIVES! LOL...

Though I was really afraid of what I might have to see in and smell from his "difficult" area, I would feel guilty if I didn't treat him. I was anxious of the unknown. But, I gave him another try. I told him, "Sir, how am I going to help you if I don't know what your rash looks like?" He said, "No."

OK! Brew it in there. What gives!

OK, I'll stop with the gay "what gives". I forgot, I AM GAY. But saying "what gives" is gayer. Or, should I say "more gay" instead of "gayer"?

"Jshut duh fook oop! Whac geeves!"

"Gay Confucius, You Shut Up!"

"Ju jshut oop! Whac geeves!"

Bill...Tell me how to fix it!

Bill,
I couldn't even open your comment at first. So, I went into the edit section and was able to read your comment. And...HOW DO I FIX IT?...:)
Email me if you don't mind because I might not be able to open your comment again.
Thanks.

I Am Dying.....

I am dying...

I hate computers. I don't know much about computers. And, I refuse to learn it! Yes, I'm sitting on the floor stumping my feet refusing to learn the computers. I can learn to do pretty much anything I want to, but I refuse to learn the computers.

I even refuse to memorize the address to my blog. I usually go into Jim's blog then click onto mine. Well, something horrible happened to me this week. When I clicked onto some of the sites on Jim's blog, including mine, sometimes it just froze. Mine is the worst. If I clicked on my blog name, the article would appear, but, once I clicked on "comment", it just froze stiff. STIFF...hmmm. Jim's staff is STIFF...When I first learned English, I used to write a sentence for every interesting word.

Anyway, this is killing me. With my obsessive-compulsive TRAIT (yes, Jim, I have an OC TRAIT, not DISEASE...at least, not yet), this drives me crazy.

I have another sentence: I have OCD when it comes to Jim's STIFF STAFF. :))) Actually, all kidding aside, I love Jim with all my heart, and it has nothing to do with his stiff staff. I am just as happy with him with or without sex. I would be even happier if he'd let me show him how to take down my Christmas tree. Somehow, Jim doesn't think it's a good way to make memories with me. I just don't get it...LOL.

Back to the main topic, I tried a different computer, and the exact same thing happened. This drives me nuts! I am dying of frustration.

I Need to Have My Testicles Checked

This was how we had our physical exams before we left the refugee camp for the US. The only
difference was there was only one female doctor sitting at the desk while we one by one passed by her for only a genital check.

Now, I'm on the other end checking men' genitals. The genital part is OK, but I don't like checking prostates. Not all men keep things clean.

The funny thing is a lot of the men are funny when it comes to checking their genitals. I guess they are just shy. I always tell them what I would do and why I needed to do it. A lot of them either ask me if they should drop their pants down or just stand right in front of my face while I'm sitting on my stool and resist dropping their pants down. Each time like that, I could not help but smile and say, "Well, how am I going to check you, now, with your pants on?" Usually, that would break the ice.

Some of them are so funny though; they slowly pull their pants down then slowly resist pulling their boxers down then hide their penises a little bit at the end. But there are some with big penises who would just volutarily drop their pants the moment I requested and didn't even want to pull up their pants when done as if to say: "Here it is; I'm proud of it."

Then, there are some who would just stand so close to my face. As I move back, they move forward. I am farsighted now, I need to stay back a little to see it clearly! Actually, I don't have to. But, a lot of times, these men are unkempt, and I do not at all want to be close to their penises. Why couldn't they just take a shower if they knew they were going to have a physical? That is not a man scent that I enjoy...sigh!

Then, there are some who would just plainly refuse the examination. Well, the more power to you. All I have to do is document your refusal and move on to the next patient. Well, yesterday, there was one who stood on the fence deciding whether or not he would let me examine his precious parts. Good grief, make up your mind! I have other patients to see. It turned out that he had a very small penis. AND, his testicles were as tiny as those of a two-year-old child. That's a good reason to be shy. But, why wouldn't you want your doctor to check and help you? That's crazy. Surely, it's not normal. He told me his previous doctor from somewhere didn't say anything about it. I was glad I checked him out.

It's important to get your prostate and testicles checked. I think Jim is due for one. I am due for one, too. Actually, I don't want my prostate checked. I only want my testicles checked, very carefully...and extensively checked. But, I don't have time to go to the doctor. What am I to do? I got it. I have to train Jim to check them for me. Yes.

I Need to Look for Jim

I have been so busy that I haven't taken down the Christmas tree. It's long overdue. I remember vividly how I loved it so much when Jim and I sat in front of it after I put it up. It was very special...the two of us sharing a moment of tranquility amidst the beaming holiday spirit.

Now that it's time to take down the Christmas tree, it makes me think about Jim so much, too. It makes me think that, amidst the messiness of the holiday aftermath, it would be so nice to have Jim here with me taking down the Christmas tree. Or even better, I can show him how to take down my Christmas tree. Yeah...Jim, come over and make some memories.

Jim, where are you? ?Donde estas? Come on! It will be fun.....Jim, Dear?.....

:)))