Nurse Sean (dot) com

I’ve declared myself a weekend smoker!

I was doing quite well quiting, and then the weekend came along. The drinks flowed…the cravings became too strong. So, I found myself at 3:00am stopping to buy a nine dollar pack of smokes. I hate the new prices!

One thing I’ve learned from trying to quit smoking and trying to get over someone, is that the feelings are nearly identical. Just as I sit in a chair craving a smoke more than anything in the world, I will sit by my phone and pray that he calls, or every now and then I have to stop my hand from picking up the phone. My body will shiver at the thought of a cigarette, just as it will at the thought of being with Glenn.

Just as I failed to quit smoking, I’m sure I’ll fail getting over Glenn. At least in the short term. In fact, I plan to call him tonight to see if he’s going out.

I spent the night with Ross at the bar. We had some amazing conversations about Glenn. If you didn’t know, Ross and Glenn dated until Glenn dumped him. Then a couple weeks later I fell in love with Glenn. All interesting because Ross is one of my best friends and coworkers. I’ve never told Ross about my feelings for Glenn before. I’ll work on a flow chart one day…it goes even farther than what I’ve mentioned.

It was one of those conversations where you’re thinking “If two actors could pull this off, they’d win an Oscar.” Ross was talking as though he couldn’t stand Glenn and that he didn’t really care about him, but I could tell in his eyes that he was still deeply in love. On the other hand, I tried to hide my feelings for him so as not to hurt Ross’s feelings, continualy brushing off Glenn as a “cool guy” or “he’s quirky” and “I would never sleep with him”. I could see in Ross’s eyes that he could tell that I was in love with him and it completely devistated him. It was just one of those conversations where talk meant nothing, but everything was said through body language and the look in our eyes. I wanna see two actors do that conversation as well as we did!

As for Glenn, he never called me yesterday, even though we were supposed to go out for lunch. I was quite proud of myself…because I didn’t care. I listened to music, worked on some poetry, thought about an article on sex I’m planning to write, and memorized portions of “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”. I surrounded myself in creativity.

Today though, is when my Glenn cravings have started. I think its mostly because he’s taking off for San Fransisco Monday, and I know today is my last chance to see him for awhile. Its almost like the panic attack when you realize the cigarette you’re smoking is your last one.

So, like I said, I’ll call him and see what he’s up to. If I don’t see him today, and the rest of the week, it will probably be good for me.

And to make things worse! This is the last day of my three day weekend!

Its almost as though a fever has broken. That little click where you know you’re getting better rather than sicker.

I met Glenn for dinner last night. He called me and said, “Come meet me and Alice for dinner.”

I have to admit I could hardly contain my excitement. Has anyone else done the little “YAY, I get to see the man I’m in love with” dance? I did last night. I showered and made myself pretty. All the time thinking that if he’s calling me already to meet him for dinner with his friend I’ve never met, he must having feelings for me.

I even slyly thought that if we’re meeting a women, I would be on the top of my game. Perhaps its a good friend of his, checking out the guy he has a crush on. I knew I’d score points with her. I’m much more myself and comfortable with women. I was truley excited and giddy. Absolutely giddy beyond belief.

So, I get to the restaurant and to my wonderful surprise its a man named Alex, not a women named Alice. My game was thrown for a loop. I decided I wouldn’t let myself down with shyness. So, we chatted and talked and joked. Alex was actually one of the more hilarious men I’ve met.

I hated the fact that Glenn spent the whole night drooling over one of the waiters. It pretty much drove it home that I was dillusional and he wasn’t interested in me.

I appreciated Alex, he kept on making fun of all of Glenn’s little quirks that I didn’t know about. Trust me, when you learn of someone’s horrifying quirks that don’t mesh with your own, it makes it easier to slow down the attraction.

At the backlot we mingled and chatted and slowly got drunker and drunker. I hated that Glenn pronounced which guys he was planning to take home and fuck. I felt like crawling into a corner and hiding. I’m not saying Glenn treated me badly, he just hurt me unintentionaly. Completely my own doing.

A really, truly annoying women came and decided to sit at our table to talk. Well, her and Alex began to chat, then argue, which led to a spontaneous game of truth or dare between them. The women dared him to lick her nipple. Alex, of course, did. She told Alex that she got to suck his cock now.

“I’m sorry dear, at the risk of offending you, I’m not a whore.” Was Alex’s response. I’m not sure he realized it, but he indirectly implied that she was a whore for letting him suck her nipple. She pouted away in near tears.

Okay, so we’re cruel and evil people and laughed for about an hour at the horribly offensive mark. I’m not sure if it will read funny, but oh boy! It was a riot!

It was at that moment that I realized that I was having one of the best times of my life. I was laughing and drinking and being with amazingly fun friends. Who the hell cares that I’m single and have a crush on this quirky, strange guy. My love sick fever broke and there I was, left to recover and get back to life.

Glenn is supposed to call me today for lunch. I hate that we’re always together as though we were dating. Even the annoying girl last night assumed we were together. She even seemed shocked that we weren’t. Oh well!

If I can get over my crush on him, perhaps he’ll be the best friend I’ve ever had. If I can’t get over him, well, I know myself enough to walk away and distance myself.

I think I’m finally maturing when it comes to the game of love. Of course, I need to learn to be forward. As Glenn said last night “It pays to be forward”

I said back to him “Trust me, thats the one thing in life I know for sure, but the one think I can’t seem to do.”

Perhaps I could have saved myself grief by knowing long ago that I was going to get the unrequited virus, and could have taken medicine.

As I sat on Glenn’s couch, I realized just how peaceful I felt. That after a week of anxiety attacks, depression, tears, all of them caused by this man, just sitting on his couch was exactly where I wanted to be.

I listened to the silence of his 21st floor appartment filled with only the simple clanging of dishes being cleaned and Glenn mumbling under his breath about how little he like the cheesecake he made. I had already reassured him a hundred times just how wonderful it was. I wish it hadn’t felt so much like home.

My eyes were fixed on a giant painting he had on his wall. It was a Paris street in the middle of a rainstorm. There were Puddles and mud, and lonely people struggling down the street going to wherever they were going. The Arch de Triumph stood vaguely in the background, but with incredible detail. It seemed like a lonely painting, dreary and hopeless. Except that in every window, in stark contrast to the rest of the painting, an orange, passionate glow of warmth flared up with the hint that there was something wonderful happening inside. It gave the illusion that those stuck on the street in the rain, inculding the person gazing at the painting were missing out on something beautiful.

I had to take a closer look at this painting, but as I drew closer and closer, it became just a giant blur of paint strokes, seemingly random and meaningless. So, I stepped back and watch it come into detail again with immense detail. Then forward and then backward. I think Glenn thought I was nuts.

Oh but how this painting is so much my life at this exact moment. Dreary, depressing, a raincloud following me around. Happiness behing some inpenetrable wall, but right there in front of me. And the more I try to analyze my life, the blurrier and more confusing it seems.

Glenn interrupted my trance by letting me know that the movie was starting in a couple minutes, and that we had to go. We went and saw monster’s ball. Glenn paid again, even though I insisted on it. He paid for the food, even though I begged. Honestly I love having everyingthing bought for me, but I hate that I love it, which leads to guilt. The movie was absolutely amazing. Its the movie that Halle Barry won her best actress award for. After coming out of the movie I looked at Glenn and stated “I thought I was having a bad week, but after seeing that movie, my life seems perfectly pleasant. Wow, were their lives miserable!” He just agreed.

I remember one line from the movie where Billy Bob Thorton leans over in bed and states, “I’m going to take care of you.” and Halle Barry looks at him and says “Good! Because I need to be taken care of.”

Their relationship was as simple as that and as complex as that. Sometimes I wonder if what I really need is to be taken care of. Scratch that, I can take care of myself, I do every day. I want to be taken care of. I want someone to love me so much that every moment and action is an attempt to make sure that I’m alright and that nothing will ever hurt me. I’m quite willing to do the same, but its just such a romantic notion to be completely helpless untill a gorgeous knight sweeps you away to a perfect life.

Glenn could do this for me, emotionaly, if not anything else. And I hate the fact that its just not in him to feel that way about me. I’m pretty sure he likes me, and wants to hang out with me. I want the passion whereas he shows up and my doorstep in tears begging me to love him. This isn’t asking too much of him, he’s done that to someone before, his hardest unrequited moment. I’m even good friends with the man that rejected him. I hate that friend now, because he had a love I’ll never know.

So, I hate him for not loving me. Is that wrong? But in my hate, I feel the need to spend every moment with him, because thats when I don’t feel the pain of loving him.

My friends, the ones I’ve told, have mentioned that it sure sounds as though he really truley has feelings for me. I wave them off and assure them that he treats me like he does any of his friends. I can’t help but analyzing over and over what he has said to me, and what he’s done, trying to find any hint that a mutual attraction exists.

I remember sitting in the little bar beside the dance bar with him, drinking one martinin after another. All bought by him. We were completely wasted and having the most amazing conversation. He stopped me and said “I have a gift for you”. I couldn’t help but give him the strangest look. Here we are, two wasted gay men, in the dark corner, one on the verge of crying because he’s in love with this guy accross from him, and the guy accross from him claims he has a gift for him.

He went on to tell me just how amazing I am, and how special my personality is. I don’t remember much, thanks to the martinis, but I do rember my heart falling as he mentioned his lack of sexual attraction to me. I thanked him, and wished I could tell him just how equally amazing I thought he was, and that I thought he was the most attractive man I’d ever met, but with a giggle, we headed off to dance at the bar.

We spent the whole next day together. Going for lunch, going to the arcade, going to the movies, going to dinner, watching movies at his place. All bought bought by him. Every few minutes, I would look over at him and catch him staring at me, with a quirky, sexy smile on his face.

I waited and waited for him to call me again, and eventually I called him. That’s when we decided to go see Monster’s Ball.

I know he’s just a friend, and just wants someone to go to the movies with and show off the fact that he’s got oodles of money. Did he have to be so beautiful though, inside and outside? And for god’s sake, why does his presence have to bring me so much peace? Why did I have to let myself fall in love?

Honestly though, I’ve learned enough that love can’t be helped.

So, I’m just going to go through the next few days, waiting by the phone for his phone call with deep anxiety, praying for more hints that there just might be a smidgen of hope.

I’ll spend some time just thinking about the gift he gave me. The gift of letting me know how special I am, and wonderful. I’ll think upon how that made me feel, and just try to fall out of love with him, and into a beautiful friendship.

Friendship and love never mix though!

Its been a hard week for me. I could write novels on what has been happening to me. It seems so small though compaired to my roomates week, as though my petty issues have been put into perspective. His Grandmother died last night. I tried to sleep as they had their “death watch” at my appartment. Not a pretty sight.

After they rushed to the hospital in desperate need of one last sight of her breath, I bawled for an hour. I cried when I drove to work.

The only thing I knew of this lady was the stories of her love with her husband. I posted long ago that she and her husband up until the day he died would never be apart. When the drove, they always did so with their arms wrapped around each other. They were married for sixty-five years.

What did she do when he died? She went on…

Thats when I learned my lesson that if your love isn’t that strong, its not worth it at all. I won’t settle for less. A lesson I carry with me to this day.

I looked at her picture today after Jason left to plan her funeral in her home town. I thanked her, and lit a candle and my favorite incense for her.

In the picture she stands, in love with her husband, smiling. I prayed that she stands there with him now.

Thank you…I’m sorry I don’t even know your name…you taught me what to strive for in life.

Be peaceful…

Maybe its this house. I’m staying at my parents house right now, performing my expected job as cat sitter. My family loves cats, we all have oodles of them. However, I’m the only one broke and pathetic enough to never be able to afford a vacation. So, I’m constantly moving around the city to take car of various cats.

This house is so cold, the temperature is greatly below the normal room temperature. I’m staying in the haunted bedroom, so called because its always, for no good reason, ten degrees lower than the other rooms.

There are a lot of heat sources in my parents house fortunately, the fire place, the heated blankets, my cat who misses me and won’t stop cuddling up to me. I miss her and I know I’ll cry when I have to leave her again.

So, I’m sitting in front of the television on Friday. I have a vision as I look into the fire place from under my blanket and my purring cat. I’m next to someone, nobody in particular really, just someone special. I’m in love. We’re attatched at the hip and infinately happy. We’ve just curled up to watch some television after putting the kids to bed. The kids are tired from so much fun they had that day. Yelling, playing, creating joy.

I wake up to the tick of my biological clock. I’m confused, because that’s for women, not gay men. Truly, I rarely have the desire for children. For a few vivid moments it was the only thing that was important in the world. Love and family.

Maybe its this house, I’ve been depressed the last couple days. Depressed in a way I haven’t felt in months. Perhaps since around the time I moved out. I find myself empty hear amongst the coldness, craving, needing, desperate for someone else to fill some sort of void.

I have memories in this house. Bent over on the floor of the living room, uncontrollable, crying and spitting onto the carpet because the first love of my life had no interest in me. Losing my virginity for the first time. Moving out on my own for the first time. Moving back, a failure. Moving out to live with my failure instead of my parents. Thrashing everything in my room at three in the morning, drunk, because I heard Dan was dating someone.

There is so much loneliness for me here. Everything reminds me of pain, suffering, heartbreak, tragedy. The coldness clings to my soul and begs for a warm body to wrap itself around.

Its stale and sanitary like a hospital, my mom so obsessive compulsive about cleanliness. A weekly maid. There’s no emotion, no love. I’ve seen my parents kiss once in my life. It was just a peck. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve had more sex in this house than my parents. Dirty, one night stand, get your juices out and say goodbye kind of sex.

Last night Glen showed up at the bar. I haven’t seen him in about a month. Just about enough time to completely forget about him, and then there he is. Sexy as ever, unobtainable ever. No wonder I can’t resist him, I only love those I can’t have and reject those I can.

Although, I did catch him looking at me a couple times, he bought me drinks. Its just the old game of looking so hard for hints that you start to invent them. He leaned in to kiss me at one point, not really a big deal for a gay bar, I caught me on the cheek. Was that what he was going for, if not, I may have snubbed him. Made him think I wasn’t interested. Cliche, but I’m never washing that cheek again.

God, he never kisses anyone else like that! Is that a hint? Maybe he’s interested, but thinks I’m not, thanks to rejecting a kiss that I want more than anything. About a minute later, he turned to his friend and declared it was time to g. With a simple wave he was gone.

And now I need him, I really truly need him. No, I don’t desire him, I don’t crave him, I don’t want a wild fuck-fest with him. I simply want it to be him on that couch cuddled up with me after putting the kids to bed.

Its hard to even know if he’s that type of guy or not. I barely know a thing about him, except that he’s in love with Eric, but denies it, Eric has no interest in him, my good friend Ross still has feelings for him and I’m completely falling for him, after seeing him twice. He’s boring in bed, emotionally cold, an asshole, yadda yadda yadda…

All my information comes from Ross, who’s uncapable of seeing the good in anyone. In fact, if he met Mother Theresa, he’d probably only see some negative aspect. So, I’m not so interested in this advice.

I’ve met him twice, spent about five hours with him. What could I possibly know? Why should I need him like I need my morning cigarette?

I feel the courage coming on to approach him with these feelings, but really, how would you feel if a practicaly stranger came up to you and admited that he was not only falling for you, but needed you in his life more than anything in the world.

I’d probably run away. So, I’m thinking about getting him out to coffee or something. OOps…don’t know his phone number, or where he lives, or where to find him at all.

Here I go again. I probably won’t see or hear for him for another month, and by then I’ll be over him again. Ready for another round of this bullshit.

By then I’ll be in the comfort of my own appartment, with warmth and friendship surrounding me. I won’t see memories of pain and lonelyness everywhere I look. I’ll have the courage and frame of mind to just shrug it off again like I did last time.

Its definately this house…

I’m listening to “The Queen of the Damned” soundtrack and have nothing to talk about. Okay, so nobody can ramble like I can and I’m sure that’s what I’ll do. In fact, most of the time I start with nothing to write about.

Well then, I’ll talk about “The Queen of the Damned”. You’re reading the words of the greatest Anne Rice fan in the world…I swear it you are! Don’t argue, because I’ll have none of it!

So, the movie came out a couple of weeks ago, and of course I was first in line to see it. I almost peed my pants with excitement.
First the negative. Why the HELL did they change the things they did? What I mean is, every fact that they changed had no importance to how the movie told the story, so why bother. Like, why did every vampire have the wrong hair. If you read the book, you’ll notice an almost obsession Anne Rice has with what hair each vampire has. Why change it when you know we’ll whine. Why make Marius Lestat’s maker. The list goes on…. The worst was probably the fact that they combined two large, epic novels into one movie that’s less than two hours long. Pick a book and stick to it! If we’re willing to spend weeks on end reading these novels, why couldn’t we spend three hours watching them in the theatre! Why not make a novel of just one book! It just seemed silly! There is massive chunks of important information missing.

The positive. Alliyah was AMAZING as Akasha. Better played than I could have imagined her. Lestat was amazing (Except for not having blond hair), Marius was perfect. I loved that the movie was completely different than the Interview with the Vampire. They are written by two different vampires, from two completely different points of view. Why not make them completely different. I think they both captured the spirit of the vampires that wrote them. The music was orgasmic. The concert scene was beautiful…I found myself clapping when Marius showed up to save the day. I shrunk down when the entire theatre looked at me.

Basically, I loved the movie, but too many things pushed my pet peeve buttons. Oh well, I don’t have the power to change it, so I’ll live with what I get. It was completely fun to watch all these characters come to life!

So, how about social life talk. I went out Saturday night with Jason and Dan. I’m convinced they bring me down and cause me to have less fun. I’m not saying its their fault. Completely mine. When I’m with them, I tend to stay with them. I sit in the same place they do, and converse with their friends that I don’t like. When they’re not around, I force myself to meet new people, and create my own fun, in my own style.

Sunday, I went to the bar alone and had a blast all by myself. I basically got a little tipsy and danced the night away with people I barely know. I rarely have that much fun at the bar!

Work is stressful right now. Ross is an asshole at work even though he’s a good friend outside of work. Lucy and I talked to Adrian, and Ross will be in big giant shit tomorrow. I’m scared to know how much shit.

He’s rude to employees, he’s made a couple of them cry just by being completely mean and rude to them without cause, he’s pissed off customers by yelling at them. He tells other employees never to listen to me or Lucy (Supervisors), he’s condescending and bossy. He’s a big fat grumpy fucking bastard!!! We’re sick of it, and friend or not, we have a buisness to run, and if he’s hampering it, we have to get rid of him. So, its change your attitude or fuck off for him tomorrow. The problem is, when you confront him about his attitude, it gets worse and he gets even more fucking cruel! So, its out of his supervisors hands and into the managers. He’s screwed himself over. Not my problem. I may lose a friend though.

Wow, isn’t that amazing I had more to write about a meaningless movie than I did about potentially losing a friend. What does that mean? Simply that Ross has, by treating me and my friends that I work with horribly, lost most of my friendship already!

I’m supposed to be going to the bar tonight, but I’ve decided not to go. I have this urge to wake up early before the Sun comes out and lay under my blankets and watch morning television.

OH! Survivors on tomorrow! I can’t wait to drool over Robert some more…he’s dreamy! * giggle* I just KNOW that he’s going to win!

I stayed for a couple hours after work talking with Don. Formerly known as “hot coffee shop guy”. Only I would be handed the perfect guy on a platter like that. Except he’s bisexual, not interested in me, etc., etc., etc.. I mean, we can sit in the bar or at the coffee shop for HOURS and talk. Deep intimate talk, the kind I love. About everything. He’s a published writer, I’ve read his books. He’s perfect. Not to mention gorgeous. I gave up on him months and months and months ago, so I’m not too distraught. I’m just sick of being handed the perfect men on a platter, only to realize that the platter was meant for the next table.

Ok. Back to Ross. I’m still scared shitless. This is the first time EVER that I’ve had to put a foot down and recomend possible termination of an employee. Why does it have to be my friend. Just wondering how my chat with him on Friday will go…

Ok, I’m over it….

for now….

Did I mention how good “the Queen of the Damned “soundtrack is?

I’ve listened to the whole thing about four hundred times today so far…..

Now it seems that I’m rambling simply for the sake of rambling. I really should know when its time to shut up.

So should Ross…

Ross should kow that I’m his boss, and that its my job to report his assholeness to managers.

Where’s my lover to hold me when I’m stressed?

Why can’t Don be that lover?

Why can’t anyone?

All in all, I can’t complain, I’m in a completely great mood today. Even though there really isn’t anything to be in a great mood for.

Its -27C here today! That should be REALLY pissing me off! Nope!

I might quit smoking soon…

might…

probably not…

maybe…

maybe I’ll shut up now….

Ok, its been awhile. Certainly not the longest period of time I’ve left between posts, but lately I’ve been fairly frequent. I’ve had so many thoughts in my mind lately that are begging to be put down on paper. However, some little voice, somewhere inside of me keeps telling me that these emotions need to be bottled up this time.

There’s no reason. I mean they certainly aren’t any different from any others I’ve had. I realized that they just needed to marinate for awhile and become tastier, zingy, wild. No really, emotions can be that way can’t they? I’m sure that the more you bottle them up, the more flavourful they get! They build and build until finaly you feel them settle down into the mysterious part of your brain where dead thoughts go.

What the hell am I talking about? I mean I’ve been depressed the past week or so. Ever since last Sunday or so, but I can only vaguely put a finger on why. I stress out when I don’t know why I’m depressed and the more I get stressed out about being depressed, the more depressed I get. I spiral down until I sit alone in the quite long enough, talking to myself, psychoanalysing myself, and come to my reason for being depressed.

This week was lonelyness. “Why this freakin’ issue again” I ask myself. “You’re not loney! How many times do I have to tell you this!” I reply.

Of course I’m wrong, I’m lonely and I’m perhaps sick of denying it. What good does it do anyways? At best it stops people from rolling their eyes at how much I complain about being so lonely and not in love. They don’t check their watches and run away to their happier, more fun friends.

Some nights lying in bed, I feel someone in bed with me, lying behind me with his arm around my body, whispering macho sweet nothings in my ear such as “don’t worry, I’ll protect you”, or “you’ll be fine as long as I’m hear to tale care of you”.

Then he’s gone, and I feel that he’s just a ghost of what’s been promised to me in the future. A glimpse, just to know that I’m on the right path, and that I’ll get there when I need to. Or perhaps, my man-ghost is a cruel reminder of what I want but may never have. At least at this rate.

Oh you know…perhaps if I was thirty pounds lighter, or thirty pounds of muscle heavier. Maybe if I was rich, or taller, or liked football, or had a neck…I’d be in a beautiful happy relationship.

Ouch, perhaps I’m not depressed! Its sounding more like my self-esteem has taken a beating. Well, I can guarantee you that low self-esteem is my greatest pet peeve and I will stop this as soon as possible.

Let me wallow for now…

oh woe is me…

My roomate once mentioned that up untill they day his grandfather died, his grandfather and grandmother, a couple of fifty some years, would sit side by side with their arms wrapped around each other whenever they drove anywhere.

That’s my simple definition of love.

I want to be so attatched to someone, that fifty years from now I’m still clinging as though it were the first week. Does nobody believe that souls become intertwined and knotted beyond repair anymore. Of course not. Look how easily people let go these days. Look how many couples sit as far apart as possible when driving in their cars.

I was so bold as to tell my roomate many months ago that “I refuse to accept any kind of love in my life except the kind your grandparents shared! Anything else is just a waste of my time. I’d rather stay single, thank you very much!”

Have you ever seen someone that made you weak? I’m talking about the first time you see someone, and something inside you tells you to fall to your knees and throw up? I mean this in the good way. Its happened to me two or three times. I’ve seen a man that simply made me melt inside with instant passion. I don’t mean the “I wanna fuck him all night” kind of passion, I mean the “I wanna spend the rest of my life falling asleep beside that man”. Kind of like every time Stan sees that girl on South Park, he can’t help but throw up.

Trust me! This has happened to me. Today as a matter of fact. I bring this up because this to me is how love, real love, starts. Two people see each other and instantly feal week for the other’s love.

Why is it that many I know have never felt this way? They claim its just horimones, I know its much more. Is this love at first sight? Perhaps only some are hardwired for this phenomenon.

I’m tired, and still depressed. I think I’ll go to bed and pretend my man-ghost is whispering in my ear:

“Don’t worry, I love you, and just loving you makes me happy. What can I do, Leo’s Rain, to make you happy again”

He’s waiting for me. Out there. Somewhere.

Leo’s Rain