Hi Dear. How was your day?

I have recently discovered that I have turned into June Cleaver. I dress everyday even if I'm not going anywhere. I clean the house, and cook dinner every night. I smile at the neighbors when they pass by me on the sidewalk. I am constantly having to teach my partner social etiquette. When I go to he grocery store everyone who works there knows me. They say "Hi David, how are you today?" I say "Fine, and how is work going for you today?" I am not kidding. I put on fake smiles at people I despise. I treat our dog and cat as if they are human, they are my Wally and Beaver. When my partner comes home i always ask about his day. What the hell happened to me? I was the guy at the grocery store that cashiers would roll their eyes at because I would not let them give me any lip. I was the guy who ordered dinner off a menu just before my partner got home. I was the guy who would have traded the dog and cat for a mink coat (this one is still up in the air). I was the guy who would tell my partner I did not want to hear about any work crap, i was tired. Age has done some bad things to me to this point, but this has got to be the most evil thing thus far. It mellowed me out. God help me.

Peer Pressure

This week has been very quiet. Quiet you ask? Yes quiet. This is because my partner has been on a business trip. I can sprawl out in bed without having to push him aside. I can watch all the television shows I want. I can eat like a college kid and not care. Basically i am bored off my ass. I have no one to pick a fight with. I have no one to make fun of. I have no one's closet to go to rearrange differently and out of order just to bug them. I have to take all the turns at walking the dog. I miss him. He is currently in out hometown getting drunk with friends. While i decided responsibly not to have any alcohol this weekend.Does this make me better than him? Yes. I have decided not to drink all weekend. What I have discovered is all my friends here in Chicago and Dallas for that matter, drink excessively. I also discovered that I am the black sheep this weekend because i have been called by everybody on my dart team to go out and drink. When i explain my plan for not drinking they made fun of me. Then they said I should just forget about my plan and go out. I said that they were enablers. They said we enable each other so that's why we are not alcoholics and I need to go back to my denial faze about drinking.I said no.So here i am on Saturday night by myself spending time with a stranger, a stranger named David Jimenez.

5,6,7,8

If ever i have had a gay moment the worst one and most embarrassing happened on Saturday night. I have been obsessed with the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders for a while now. More specifically I have been obsessed with the CMT show making the team the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. It showcases the trials and hard work from the the initial audition process, to training camp, and ultimately those who make it and those who are cut. It can be harsh to see a girl who weighs 100 pounds be cut because she doesn't look good in the uniform, or to see a girl who does not have the appropriate verbal skills to represent the team be cut as well. The team is run by Kelli Finglass, a former cheerleader herself. She runs a tight ship and cuts girls for different reasons. One of these reasons is part of my obsession. The famous high kick line. The girls line up and kick a series of high kicks that end in a jump split. Yes i said a jump split. Its amazing. Well, I decided on Saturday that I would try and replicate this kick line with the help of my loving patient partner. I figured why not, it was snowing outside, i was bored, and i was determined to see just how high my leg could go. We were standing in the kitchen and I asked him to lift his hand so i would have a point to focus on. I put my hands on my hips and in my head played the song Simply Irresistible, this what they kick to on the show. Then I counted 1,2,3,4 and kicked my right leg up as high and hard as I could to reach his hand. As if in slow motion my left foot slipped on the kitchen tile and I watched my partners face turn to fear as I slowly fell backward. As I fell a thought came to mind, I might die of a head injury. If I die then my partner would have to explain to the police, my family, and my friends that I had died of an injury sustained from practicing the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader kick line. It would be in all the gay papers, and be part of my eulogy. They would have to find a huge casket to put me in to fit my leg that was stuck over my head. Then as I hit the floor I thought it might not be so bad. Kelli Finglass would hear about it and send the cheerleaders to my funeral to do the kick line in front of my over sized casket as a tribute to me. That would have been cool. Well I was okay, I landed hard but nothing broke, and I looked to see my partners face fighting back a laugh until he knew I was okay. Thank God I did not try the jump split.

Just Venting

I have been in a relationship now for nearly 4 years and it amazes me that some people think they know my relationship better than I do. They look at me and Dalton whom they have known for only a short period of time and analyze what they think the dynamic of our relationship is. I find myself border line insulted by their assumptions. One assumption is that I am Dalton's "boy" who spends his days shopping and going to the gym. While I do like a good pair of shoes every now and then this is simply not the case. Another assumption I have recently discovered is that Dalton lavishes me with what I want because they feel he and I do not compliment each other physically. What the hell? This is more insulting to him than me. These are assumptions that I knew very well existed but were not confirmed until we met up with a friend last night for a drink. I will go record saying that no one really knows a relationship looking in from the outside. We have each sacrificed for each other and I will admit at the moment Dalton is the primary bread winner but there have been times when that role was reversed. As far as looks go, there is no man more attractive in my eyes than Dalton ( except maybe for Daniel Craig, but I digress.) We share a both good and bad times together. We have our disagreements, but who doesn't? We have mutual respect for one another and a strong love. I realize that having to defend my relationship with him should not have to be done, but I just needed to vent. Dalton himself could care less, which is one of the traits I admire in him. I however still carry that high school trait of caring what is said about me, and believe me much has been said. I know I shouldn't care, especially since those who make these assumptions are not exactly models for solid relationships but it still bugs me. I guess i will have to just live with it.

With Age Comes Wisdom and Aching Bones

I have begun my daily workouts and let me tell you times have changed. I use to be able to run a 5 mile stretch with a hangover and a cigarette hanging from my mouth. Now I can barley crack 3 miles sober. What the hell? I am 31 years old and have been eating healthy for a while now. I still smoke and drink but even that has tapered off a bit. The gym I attend is 4 blocks away and it took all my strength to walk home from there today. So now lets recap.....Losing my hair, the hair I still have left is going grey, i have man boobs, and I when I read for an extended period of time my eyes begin to blur. I'm scared of whats next. At least i still have regular bowl movements, God forbid i have to start using a stool softener. Also for my good friend Vicky no matter what age group your in there is always a younger group. The other day I heard some kid use the slang "that's sick" and didn't realize it meant something good. If I say that's sick I'm usually referring to those guys that weigh 100 pounds and have a Leif Garrett haircut. Well i guess I'll sign off for now its time for my afternoon nap.

Boobylicious

Well I've embarked on something new yet again, or revisited something. I have begun to work out at the gym again. I have done this partly because I was inspired by my friend Joe who is embarking on the same thing, and partly because the other day when i ran across the street I nearly gave myself a black eye with my man boobs. Now mind you I am not a heavy guy, in fact I am fairly thin, but it seems no matter how much I work I cannot get rid of them. They are not Pamela Anderson big, but if i don't take action I will soon be a B cup. All the woman in my family are well endowed, and unfortunately so are the men. No matter how thin I get they never shrink. I have begun wearing muscle shirts under my normal shirts in order to keep them in place, and lets face it an undershirt is basically a man bra. There is nothing more embarrassing ( except falling down on a regular basis, no names needed) than a man whose chest bounces when he walks. You feel as if everyone passing you in the street is staring. You feel violated when people talk to your man boobs instead of looking you in the eye. I bet all you women out there thought you were the only ones. Men with fatty boobs get the same stares only for different reasons. I am going to work my butt off until they are gone, if that doesn't work I am thinking pf plastic surgery. I will keep you updated.

Seriously?

Well it happened yet again. I know I have mentioned a couple of instances when my beloved loses his balance and eats dirt, so it should come as no surprise that I have yet another example as to why I need to put him in a bubble. Yesterday, my partner and I along with a few friends decided to attend German fest in our neighborhood. It was a wonderful day filled with food, German music and lots of beer. The weather was beautiful, and the crowd was friendly. We started with a parade that marched right down the middle of our street, next we went to the square to join the festivities. We played games and ate brauts, and drank lots of beer. Now mind you I am not a beer drinker so I was cautious and limited myself to a only a few. My partner and friends went a little further. By the time eight o'clock rolled around the majority of our group was thoroughly plastered. My partner was part of this majority. It was decided that at this point we should go home. Dalton was very intoxicated and we decided to end the night. A friend of ours kindly helped me walk Dalton home because I needed the help. After a couple of blocks the beer kicked in with force. Dalton had to go potty. After yelling at him not to pee in the street he stopped at a local park to attempt a relief of his bladder. Again I cautioned him against it but he was determined. He did not realize that a chain blocked off the park and he would have to walk over it. Well this is when it happened he tripped on the chain and down he went into the dirt. My friend and I quickly ran over to pick him up. We walked the rest of the way home as blood trickled down from his knee and I wiped mud from his shirt. We got home and went to bed. The next day I discovered his knee was swollen and bruised. It has come to my attention that I really may need to put him in a bubble or fit him with knee pads and a helmet, I haven't decided which of these to go with yet.