The eyes of autumn are upon us and I'm breaking out of my limits

My friend mentioned to me that now that October 1st is finally here, "the eyes of autumn" are upon us.
I really didn't understand what he meant, but when he explained it to me, I thought it was hilarious. He told me that the eyes of autumn is a gay term that he and his friends used back in his hometown. It was an inside joke between he and his gang of gay male friends, but it certainly applies here.
He said that it is the time when autumn weather finally hits and gay men get into their snuggle mode. The summer has officially ended and the men are scouring the city of Asbury Park (and beyond) in search of, not necessarily a one-night stand, but they will be looking for a significant other to share their blanket.
I'd never heard of this, and I'm sure other gay men around this area haven't either. But starting today, gay men are in extreme mode to lasso another man who can - and will - do a lot more than just keep them warm. I think that's a grand concept. He warned me that this month will be the time that I just might find a man who will be perfect for me.
I have no idea what the eyes of autumn - October - will have in store for me. But I'm going to keep my eyes open, just in case a handsome gentleman looks my way. I'm usually pretty oblivious to potential suitors looking my way, but I'm going to break out of that mode and try to push the envelope more than I've been doing.
I'm also going to do something that I haven't done in the past. I'm going to expand my search net. Most people who know me well are aware that I don't date within my race and haven't really looked at other black men as an option. It's not that they aren't attractive to me; I just haven't looked at another black man as a potential suitor. Maybe that has been a little shortsighted on my part.
Don't get it twisted - my main type of man is Caucasian. But in the past I've found that it's very difficult to know if a white man is attracted to a black guy. I'd agree with the statistics that approximately 78 percent of the population of gay white men aren't attracted to black men to enter into a monogamous relationship with, only for a casual romp so they can try something different. For the most part, the statistics are not on my side.
So I'm considering looking within my own race for a man. But when it comes to any man, my standards are still high. Maybe a little too high. But as I've said before, my parents raised me to maintain a high level of standards and it's difficult to break that. I did that once, and to this day I regret a lot about that relationship. I won't do that again.
So my eyes will be open, but I'll still be looking at potential suitors with one eye open as well. And for those who don't know what that means, that "one eye open" is referring to my third eye. Everyone has a third eye; some just decide to keep that eye shut.
So if you catch me eyeing you over the top of my martini glass (one of my bartender friends jokes with me about the fact that I subconsciously tend to do that sometimes), don't be taken aback. It just means that the eyes of autumn are upon you and you've been found attractive by me.
But be forewarned ... I don't just share my blanket to snuggle with just anyone. Because even though I'm just like every other horny gay man, I'm still a lady!

Can't eat, can't sleep, can't drink, can't go out ... what the hell is going on?

This past week has been weird for me. I'm not sure why, but for some reason I haven't had the desire to see people. I'm usually always up for some fun, but that has been the furthest thing from my mind.
What the hell is going on?
I really haven't had too much of an appetite, and for me that's not normal because I can usually eat everything in sight.
I really haven't been sleeping too well. I haven't been able to sleep through the night, and it seems as though I've been tossing and turning way too much.
Most people who know me are well aware that I can drink a hell of a lot of alcohol and still be standing. Martinis are my drink of choice, and I think I've had pretty much every martini under the sun. But for some reason, I haven't had the urge to drink at all.
And I think the last time I went out on the town was last Friday. It was my good friend's birthday party at the local gay bar, and I had a really good time. But since, the only time I really went out was Sunday; I had dinner at Hotel Tides. I usually continue the festivities at Paradise, where I have a fun time with my friends at karaoke. But I just couldn't be around anyone, and that's not like me.
But nothing has appealed to me. And I'm not sure why.
I know that my mother has been on my mind a lot lately, more than usual. I've always missed her since her death almost a year ago. She meant the world to me, and I really miss her. The anniversary of her death is coming up in October and I'm not sure how to handle that. I feel like there is something I'm missing, like there's a message she has been trying to tell me this past year and I don't have all the pieces to the puzzle.
I also feel like no one actually understands what I'm going through when it comes to my mom. I'm well aware that I'm not the first person to lose a parent, someone who means the world to me. But who really wants to hear me go on and on about it? I usually keep these things to myself, for the most part. Plus if I talk about this stuff to others, I may just burst into tears. And anyone who knows me knows that I don't like to cry in public.
I do need to figure out why I'm going through all this inner strife right now. I'm not a big fan of therapy, so that prospect is out for me. I just have to figure all this out on my own.
Perhaps I really am just burned out from all the shenanigans surrounding the gay community in Asbury Park. There are some good things about it, but right now I'm struggling to figure out what those are. Anyone who knows any off the top of their heads, please let me know what these good things might be. It's appreciated.

A friend called me a prude, and I have to admit, he was right on the money

This blog post actually picks up where my last post, "Prince Charming lost his invitation to the ball", left off. I ended my last entry halfway through because I was getting a bit upset at myself, as I had to analyze some of my past indiscretions and missteps.
I think I was getting upset because I realized that although Prince Charming wasn't in attendance at the Mayor's Ball, I probably wouldn't have noticed him if he were there. Perhaps he was there, I wouldn't have known it because I am, somewhat, closed off.
Funny, a good friend of mine called me a prude. I thought it was funny and he was wrong, but after looking at my life and interactions over the past few years, I have to admit that he was correct in his assessment. A prude? Maybe.
Another one of my good friends, someone who I've grown very close to over the past couple of years, said that he thought I was so innocent. An innocent? Maybe.
Both of them were right. I've done my share of crazy things in my life. But for the most part, I've been a bit of a Mary Richards (after all, Mary Tyler Moore is one of my favorite actresses). And maybe all of these gay men can read that innocence in me and feel that they cannot handle it. That can be a lot of pressure for a gay man to deal with, especially since a majority of us can't be bothered with any more than a short-term whirlwind sexual experience. So no, I don't blame them.
Don't get it twisted ... I do have a crazy side that some people do see. But I tend to show people the sophisticated side at times. Guess that leads to what another friend of mine said about me. He said that I seem so regal. I can see where his assessment came from, but it was still funny to hear.
After analyzing all three of my friends' assessments of me, I've come to the conclusion that they're all right on the money. I'll admit - it hurt me a little to hear it because I never wanted to come off that way. In the world of gays, especially in Asbury Park, if a gay man is considered a prude, innocent and regal, therefore they are unapproachable and standoffish to other men. After all, who would want to try to make a pass or pick up a gay man who appeared to them in such a way? I'll be honest, I wouldn't make a move on me.
Men see me in a bar or restaurant sipping on a martini, giving off the air that I'm a prude or regal, and obviously I'm not very approachable. That is, unless that man is looking for a meal ticket or sugar daddy. One of my exes viewed me in that fashion when he met me, and that, unfortunately, became the basis of our relationship. So can I blame him? In retrospect I can't blame him, but it still hurts me sometimes. It still shakes my confidence that someone fell in love with my money before they fell in love with me.
Hell, I truly hate that I have the reputation of being out-of-reach! I really have no idea how I could possibly erase those assessments from the minds of gay men in the city. These were the blocks that my parents instilled in me, as that is the way they raised me and made great pains and sacrifices to supply me with the financial stability and responsibility that I possess to this day. I can't see anything wrong with it, except for the way others view it in me.
Even though my life's motto is "Whatever people think of me is none of my business", there are times when it is my business - mainly when it comes to my relationship status and why it is what it is.
My mother also instilled her standoffish nature in me. I'm very approachable and fiercely loyal to those friends and lovers who have taken the time to get to know me on all levels. But I know, sadly, that until you get to that point, I will always appear regal, prudish and innocent to the mass population. Pay careful attention to the word "appear", because although I appear this way, I am not at all.
So if you read my last blog entry, you know that I was feeling off because I'd witnessed two elderly gay men walking along Cookman Avenue holding hands, and was saddened because I felt like I'd never experience that with another man.
I secretly pray to myself each day that I'll find that one man who can look past my prudish, regal, unapproachable exterior and discover that I'm truly a sweet, approachable, loving, big-hearted man who just wants another man to treat him like a friend, passionate lover, confidante and soulmate.

Prince Charming lost his invitation to the ball, says Cindefella as he weeps

Right now I'm sitting in America's Cup on Cookman Avenue, ostensibly to work on my novel's rewrite. Trust me, I wanted to. But there are so many things on my mind that I'm not in any position to do that right now. And since writing a blog post helps clear my mind, I figured I'd do that instead.
Last weekend was the Mayor's Ball, the premier event of the year. Or so they told me before I purchased a ticket and attended. I won't say that it was an awful time. And I'm glad that I attended, if for nothing else but to say that I tried it out once. I'm not sure if I'll go again, though.
I had some friends who were there and had a good time hanging out with them. I sat at the last table in the back and couldn't hear one damn thing they said on stage. But that may have been a good thing, who knows. I was supposed to sit a lot closer to the stage, as a friend of mine told me prior to the event that I could sit at his table. But I guess it was an oversight, because when it came time for dinner, his table was surprisingly full. And there were a couple of people sitting there that I'm sure wouldn't have wanted to break bread with me. Sorry ... I may be a lot of things, but kiss-ass is not one of them. If I'm not too fond of you, trust me, you'll know it.
In any case, I won't say that he "chose" to not re-issue the invitation; I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and just say he forgot that he offered in the first place. But that's water under the bridge.
I saw the photos from the event, and it seems the mayor took photos with a majority of the tables. Funny, he never made it back to my table. I'm not complaining, because I really didn't want to be in any of those photos. I don't want anyone smiling in my face when they haven't even taken one minute to get to know me.
The best part of the night was the faux gambling and cigar smoking. I haven't smoked a cigar in a few years, and it was good to smoke one with a few friends. Laughing and joking with a few friends that night was the best part of the night.
I was joking prior to the ball that I was destined to meet my Prince Charming and that I was Cindefella. Albiet humorous, there was seriousness to my joking. Deep down, I was hoping that my prince would be at the ball and would sweep me off my feet. Stupid, huh?
That sort of thing doesn't happen in real life - only in fairytales and romantic chick flicks.
But sitting in the coffeehouse today, I saw the sweetest thing. Two elderly gentlemen were walking up Cookman Avenue holding hands. They must have been over 60 years old, I'd assume. But it was so good to see it. That's what I thought at first. Then I got a bit saddened. I wasn't sad because they were holding hands. I was sad because it is becoming a lot clearer to me that there is a strong possibility that I will never have a man with me, walking up the street and holding my hand so lovingly.
Perhaps it will never happen to me because romantically, I'm somewhat closed off. I don't mean to be, but sometimes it's part of my makeup. I grew up in a romance-less household, as my parents were only married in name. My mother was very miserable being married; I believe she only stayed married to my father because of her children.
I'd found out a long time ago that my mother wasn't intending to have any more children, and in her words, "I wasn't supposed to be born." She didn't mean it as harsh as it sounds, but her words still ring in my mind, sometimes horribly so. She would have been long gone if she wouldn't have had me and was stuck being in a marriage with no passion or romance.
Today that still breaks my heart. Because of that, I've been struggling so hard to make sure I found love and romance with a man. Unfortunately for me, I was so desperate to make sure it happened that I was willing to sacrifice my self-respect for the "loving" arms of men who weren't totally into me.
I'm getting a bit upset with myself, so I'm going to end this post right now and pick it up tomorrow. So stay tuned for part 2 ...

I may be damaged goods, but I'm goods nonetheless

My birthday was Friday, and I'm proud that I can say I'm 43 years old now and I've made it thus far with only a few scrapes and bruises ... to my heart.
I've had to deal with a lot of false starts in my search for a man who is worthy of me. Some people say there are no good homosexual men left out there in the world. They say all the good ones are taken, or scared of relationships, or just damaged goods. They've been through the fire a few too many times, and because of it, they are running for the hills, running far away from any sort of commitment.
That's my problem. I keep encountering these men. They tell me that they are afraid to get fully involved in a romance with me because they know I'm in it for the long haul. It's sad, because a lot of these guys who have the phobia of commitment seem to get in my way. I have these magnets on me that only attract these men.
Well, I've decided that I'm too old to keep chasing after the paper dreams that keep alluding me. These guys can stay away from me from now on. They seem to think they are doing me a favor by keeping me at arms' length, not letting me get too close to them, having indiscreminate sex with nameless, faceless individuals, avoiding going all the way (you know what I mean) with me because they know I am relationship material and they don't want to hurt me by turning their back on me after having sex, and sooner or later acting like assholes.
They actually are doing me a favor. I always take it as a rejection of sorts, but it's not a rejection at all; it's a blessing. They know I'm looking for someone just as competent, financially secure and loving as I am, and in the end they really are saving me from a lot of chaos, drama and heartache.
So thank you!
Everyone is damaged in their own way, shape or form. Even I am damaged. But even though I am damaged goods, I am goods nonetheless. And it's abominable to continue throwing myself under the bus just to have something as "far-fetched" as a relationship.
I'm not looking for the man of my dreams anymore. That person doesn't exist. I know that now. And I'm content with that knowledge.
Besides, there are a lot worse things in life than being single. Just turn on the news or read a newspaper and you'll see what I mean. So in the long run, I'm pretty lucky if the worst thing in my life is being single and never finding the man of my dreams.
Wow, I guess I really am growing up.

Don't hitch your dreams to a falling star 'cause you'll go down in flames

I deleted my last post from my blog because after speaking to a couple of people I thought it might be a bit exposed and may have put too much information about this guy I was falling for into the public eye. At the time that I wrote that post, I was sort of in the eye of the storm, so to speak.
But as a blogger, that was a mistake - I should have left it up. No matter how close our words hit to home, we should never be afraid to speak the truth.
If you didn't see the post, it was about a guy who I'd begun hanging out with. This guy was in a long-term relationship in the past, and when the relationship with the guy ended, the man of my attentions was really beaten up by it. But despite all of that, and his holding me at arm's length, I still went forward.
We were in the midst of an "intimate friendship". Our friendship was progressing pretty well and we were getting closer. I still wanted to avoid falling for this guy because he had all the markings of a man who would hurt me in the long run. Of course I fooled myself into thinking that all my fears were only because I'd been hurt by guys so many times in the past that I was just cynical.
So despite my apprehensions I let my guard down and let him in.
My mistake.
I'm feeling really stupid today because I found out something about this guy that I'd been too clueless to understand in the past. This guy who I was beginning to become attached to is a functioning alcoholic. How'd I find this out? He made dinner plans with me, a very nice dinner that I never asked for but he wanted to do for me because he, as he said, "really loves spending his time with me".
That dinner never materialized. And even though I waited all evening for the dinner that never happened, I wasn't truly worried about the dinner. I was concerned because I hadn't been able to get in touch with him. I was worried that this guy who I truly liked was hurt, or worse. I know - it sounds dramatic. But after you lose someone so special in your life to death, as I'd lost my mother a few months ago, you begin to fear that you'll lose others the same way.
So I don't know if I was happy or angry when I went out to the bar last night, got out of my vehicle, and saw this guy at the entrance. I was happy he was alive, but that quickly turned to fury when I realized he didn't remember the dinner he had planned with me. He stood me up, and sadly didn't even realize he stood me up! His excuse - he can't be responsible for his actions because he's an alcoholic. I still can't believe those words came out of his mouth.
No matter the reason, I am now totally disillusioned in men. How could he say something like that, and to top it off, he felt like I shouldn't have gotten involved because he's an alcoholic. I know he said it when he was drunk, about not getting involved with him, but I couldn't help that despite this man being a self-proclaimed alcoholic, I was undeniably drawn to his sincerity, kindness and generosity.
But how the hell did I know he was an alcoholic? Or a better question would be why the hell was an educated, intelligent man such as myself so stupid about a person that I still didn't know very well?
So this is the reason why I have to take a look within myself and try to understand why I would be so oblivious to all of it. Am I that desperate to find a man to love me that I'd ignore so many warning signs? Did I hitch my dreams of a true romance to a falling star, and now I'm just sour because that falling star has gone down in flames?
Maybe I should check myself into a rehab for people addicted to bad romance. And if they don't have a place to help people like me, they definitely should have one.

Never let 'em see you sweat and, obviously, never let 'em see you frown

These past couple of weeks have been difficult for me. I lost my job and have had to deal with some personal issues.
In the process of coming to terms with all of this, I also discovered something else ... some people just don't like to deal with a depressed person.
People are used to seeing a smiling, joking, jovial Eric. So having to deal with a less happier Eric, it seems, doesn't suit too well. For a lot of reasons, this one in particular, I usually choose to keep the upset, miserable, depressed Eric deep down inside and simply let the world see the upbeat, crazier version of myself.
I'm happy with the zany version, for the most part. People love to laugh, and I love to make people laugh. Being the life of the party is fun, anyway. And who wouldn't want to be the life of the party, right?
So that's what I'm going to do - just smile, laugh, and take Asbury Park by storm. Take Asbury Park by storm? Not sure if that's going to happen. But I'm sure as hell going to take the words to Smokey Robinson and the Miracles' hit song, "Tears of a Clown" and put it to good use.
So that's my plan. And I don't want to be walking around Asbury Park and hanging out, having to let people know what's on my mind. Do people really want to know? And if I'm smiling and joking, people won't think anything is wrong in my world anyway.
I'll make sure I'm always smiling and laughing, as I know this is what people love to see. This is something I want to do. I think it'll make me feel better and allow others to feel better as well, especially since it's 4th of July weekend and it's time to party.
Now where's my jello shot?!?