peter, peter, pumpkin carriage eater

screenshot_20161223-014622I have a date tomorrow.To say that I’m nervous is truly an understatement.I mean, I guess I shouldn’t be because I know the guy. Actually I’ve known him for quite some time now.

His name is Peter and once upon a time on one of my drunken nights we decided to meet after his Senior Prom.

He is a year or two younger than I and I had just happened to end my Max “urban” fairy tale. I was heartbroken and full of rage, not to mention full of bad decisions infuse by Vodka. I didn’t care much about anything back then. Didn’t see Peter as a possible “new beginning”, in fact I don’t think either of us ever viewed each other as much more than a simple fuck. He was young and barely exploring his sexuality, I was single and eager to subside the pain with anyone and anything that came my way. A mutual friend introduced us. She thought we would be a great match, where she got that idea, I have no fucking clue. We were good in bed that’s for sure but I couldn’t see us past the bed sheets.

We met on and off for the next couple of years after that one night at social events or someone’s house party. We fucked here and there and he always left the morning after before we could sober up and truly ask ourselves who we were underneath the covers. He lingered there even after I started my committed relationship with EJ (Ernesto) and began to play the part of a house-husband who was settling down for a less “wild” lifestyle. He became then just an acquaintance who I’d share a steamy past with and who I greeted friendly with a head nod when we bumped into each other at bars.

I lost track of him after a while, only seeing him on social media or in a social status other people posted of him. He remained distant until recently one random night we both found ourselves messaging back in forth through Facebook. I had been drinking- not a surprise- and he had just left the bar with some of his friends. One thing led to the other and before I knew it I was meeting him outside my house and showing him the way to my front door.

It was as though time had rushed Nine years back and we were those two boys meeting in the middle of the night for the first time after Prom again. He hadn’t changed much except his hair and style, though something in his persona had definitely become something else. He stared at me carefully… probably thinking the same thing. His smile brought back memories of that night especially of his mischievous grin as he leaned down for a kiss.

We gushed about how long it had been and how weird it was to see each other again. I handed him a beer and sat next to him on my couch trying to figure out what the hell I was doing bringing back old chapters of my life.

He knew I’d been sick recently. He knew only what I had told most people- that I had been diagnosed with Cancer and that I was in Chemo treatment for it. I know it’s not the truth but it’s not a lie either. KS (Kaposi’s Sarcoma) is a cancer- result of the HIV of course, but a cancer nonetheless. I figured that since everyone seemed to be aware of my hospital stay questions would arise and I had no intentions (or courage) to tell the truth. Not yet at least, not today. I decided it would be best if only certain people knew my real results while others only the partial truth. He was part of that “other” group.

After a few beers and long conversation of what we’d been doing the last couple of years he decided it be best if he stayed the night. I didn’t protest in fact I was eager to spend the night with someone other than my dog. He laid on my usual side of the bed as I made myself comfortable on EJ’s old side. I know it sounds weird but the thought of someone else sleeping on the side of the man that for years served as my body pillow seemed wrong still.

The room was dark but I could still see his eyes and his smile as he leaned in towards me and gave me his familiar kiss. He smiled at me as he pulled back, staring at me like he did that Senior night. My hands became my sight and I explored his skin like a map trying to figure out a way back home. His lips fed me his well known taste and I found myself traveling back in time and pretending that nothing between us had changed. I was not HIV positive and he was not the new and improved Peter but his old inexperienced self barely out the closet.

We didn’t do it. Partially because I didn’t want it to be just another fuck to add to our unconventional story but also because the thought of me having sex with someone who is unaware of my status seemed completely out of line. So after a steamy long session of making out we fell asleep and brought ourselves back to 2016.

I didn’t seem him after that though we promised ourselves we would stay in touch. It didn’t seem like a big surprise nor did I care much about it. I was use to this coming and going routine. We’d been doing this since the day we met. He would spend hours on my lips and then, just like that he would be gone only to return on random occasions. You would agree that it came as a shock that a few weeks later he would ask me out.

I don’t know if it’s an official date, I can only assume it is. He didn’t use the typical “would you like to go on a date with me” line and there was no rose or any romantic music playing in the background. Instead, his message popped up on my phone like a sweet surprise. “So when can we hang out? Like maybe stay in and watch movies? Just hang out and be lazy together?”

Initially I didn’t associate his request with anything else but a friendly approach to what there already is between us. It didn’t seem out of character until he said: “okay well let’s make it a date”

Again I saw his new persona come through. Though years had passed and he still remained that inexperienced boy in my head I knew that he no longer was that boy out of high school who I passionately kissed in a crowded dance floor at our local gay bar. He had grown up at some point and learned that bonding with someone over a movie is a lot more intimate than bonding with them in bed. I’m not saying that he is my next prince charming because I don’t even know if I want a prince charming.

I can’t think past today. I can’t think past the pages that are marked with my pill schedule. I don’t know how many more chapters are left and I don’t want to get involved with someone who hasn’t read the prologue to my story.

Fairy tales don’t end with “ ….And they lived happily for five years until one died of AIDS” They are not suppose to happen to people like me. They’re not suppose to happen like that.I don’t want to deny myself the idea of romance but I have to be realistic. I can’t let his charm enchant me and pretend like I am like him- that I can give him everything he wants. I am limited and should treat this with caution. I don’t want to fuck up but I don’t want to tell him the truth either. I’m scared of his reaction. I’m scared that he will no longer see me as the apple of temptation but as the rotting poison apple in Snow White.
Fairy tales all have the same happy ending and though it would be nice to end my book with a kiss in a pumpkin carriage. I think I prefer a story with an alternative ending. Maybe a Shakespeare ending with a romantic tragic end. Or maybe a Stephen King ending, twisted and unexpected. I don’t know what I want yet but maybe tomorrow after our date things will be more readable. I guess for now it’s safe to say that I am eager to see where this chapter will lead. Maybe it won’t end, maybe it will leave readers wanting more. Maybe it will leave off in a semicolon; patiently waiting for the next page.


dreaming with stars

I woke up not really wanting to wake up.

I am ashamed to say that today I let the worse get the best of me.

My alarm went off at exactly 6:00 am like it does every morning for my pill ritual. One pink one, one blue one and a huge glass of water.

I usually shower after that, clean up and have some coffee.

I check my e-mail account, my social media, and start my day. That has been my life for the last few months. This new carefree schedule might not seem as exciting to some who lead a “normal” life but for someone who is currently on leave of absences from work and is trying to adjust to a new way of living I’d say it’s actually pretty productive.

Today the desire to get up and do all those things stayed behind me somewhere wrapped and tangled in my sheets.

I had planned a morning run but that didn’t happen.

I had planned for a cup of green tea instead of coffee, but also that didn’t happen.

The only thing that actually took place was…well…nothing

I slept the day away, barely waking up for meals and going back to sleep. For whatever reason and no logical explanation I dreamed with celebrities all throughout the day. Interestingly enough they all kept telling me the same thing- that it was all going to be okay.

First I shared my slumber with Jennifer Aniston, Rachel Green from “Friends” (she was always my favorite) She ran up to me while I stood in front of a tall mirror washing away what seemed to be runny mascara off my face.

She held my hands tightly assuring me that we would fight this together and that everything was going to be alright.

I woke up from that friendly Jen dream and took a short meal break, drank a glass of water and quickly snoozed away with my next celebrity. Lady Gaga.

We were best friends and she was powerful. I mean she is, but in my dream I was powerful with her. We walked side by side like two crazy bitches in crazy outfits.

Helicopters above us flashed their cameras as we made our way through a fabulous celebrity filled pool party.

She loved me and I loved her, I do actually but I loved her more in my dream somehow. She had my back and I had hers.

Suddenly Rihanna comes out of nowhere half naked, as expected and starts singing her hit “Phresh out the runway” and in the commotion of it all Gaga disappears. She leaves me there in a sea of desperate little monsters pushing away as they all search for her. I panic but manage to stand still, viciously searching for her with my eyes but she has abandoned us. Abandon me.

The helicopters are touching ground now and a mob of camera flashes invade my eyes.

I wake up from this dream at about 4 something pm. Dramatically covered in sweat.

From this point on I can’t truly understand what made me feel so lonely. I don’t know if it was the fact that Gaga had left me there without reason or if it was the disappointing feeling of sleeping the day away after I had promised myself I would do all sorts of things today. Maybe it was a mixture of both.

I laid there motionless for about an hour, listening to cars go by and my clock tic away. It was begin to feel cold outside and the thought of Christmas began to invade my thoughts.

No current job means no money. No money means no Christmas presents. No christmas presents means feeling guilty for not being able to provide such things to those who matter. Which brings us to depression overload.

I wanted to cry. Not sure the reason behind this but I suspect it was everything (gaga and jen included). It was the impotence of not being able to have a normal job and unable to provide much this holiday season that began to potently darken my positive spirit. Of all seasons I guess this one is most important due to the fact that in my mind this could be the last Christmas with those I love. I know it’s irrational and that people don’t just die from this the year they find out. I know there are methods, medicines, and life expectancy is great but can you blame me for wanting to savor and cherish every moment of my life as it were my last?

I called my mother told her I wasn’t feeling like myself.

She immediately came into my room where she found me laying face down with one arm dangling towards the floor. She rubbed my back as she sat there in silence not really sure of what to say. Maybe she had a lot to say but thought silence would say more than she ever could. All I know is that having her there, her warmth and her sole presence made me feel at ease.

“It’s going to be okay…” she finally said. “You are lucky. You are loved. There is no reason why you should feel this way. Do you hear me? You are lucky and blessed.”

She is right. I am lucky. I am blessed.

She laid her head on my back and we stayed there for some time. I could have easily fallen asleep that way, with her comforting me, but I decided I had slept enough and brought myself up from the hole I had dropped myself in.

I gave her a faint smile and told her I was going to be alright. She looked at me, her eyes sparkling in the dark like two beautiful bright stars. Again, I knew that this was just part of the package. I guess I can’t expect every day to be easy and cheerful. I’m sure I will have plenty of days where the simplest task will seem impossible. It’s good to know though that when that does happen, I know I have plenty of  beautiful sparkling stars that can lift me up from the darkness… and none of them are celebrities.