Part II of III
I was so excited to have one of my best friends from Utah come visit me. I’ve been homesick and I miss knowing everybody and knowing who is safe or good people and who isn’t. I’d had such a happy start to Palm Springs and then strangers…. Complete fucking strangers tried to take away and destroy my happy. I withdrew and turned to work. That’s what I know how to do… work….work…work. I also know how to fight back, but I’m so tired of fighting back the evil.
No one else is going to take care of me- except for me. I know that. I didn’t want to fight with anyone- that’s not why I came here. I wanted so desperately to leave my own dark wolf or as I call it the bitch in the box I’d locked up years ago at bay. I wanted so bad to keep her buried deep, deep down inside. It’s safer that way for me and for those people who are rude, entitled and prone to maliciously touch or slap someone’s face they don’t know.
Ugh, finally – I’m in Palm Springs where I have the chance to really be someone different… where other people don’t get to define me, but I do. Or at least I’d hoped so. Even despite all the bullying and harassment I was subjected to before I arrived and after, I kept that bitch chained in the box for so many years. I just want so badly to be happy and to live a peaceful life. (She’s still locked in that box and won’t come out unless there’s an emergency.)
There was a lot of evil that tried to stomp out the joy I was feeling from being here. Yes, I was feeling joyful to finally feel safe(r), but that was short lived. I didn’t know anyone and some of the people I met proved life’s ever sharp point – that trust should be earned and not just given to everyone. The move was proving to be harder than I realized, and I didn’t know who else to trust around me anymore… except for a neighbor who turned out to be a good human being and an old man that ended up being my best friend for a few years. In those meantimes- the people that showed up will always hold a special space in my heart.
I was happy to welcome my good friend to Palm Springs. Finally I get to go out, let my hair down a little bit more, and just be myself around someone who cared about me, had my back and would choose me first out of everyone else in Palm Springs. And the feeling was mutual.
Drinks… drinks… planning for my first Red Dress Party and needing to go shopping. Yes, I preplanned and bought us two tickets to the Red Dress Party. I’ve seen other people post about it and it looked like a good time for a great cause. I was excited to pop my Red Dress Party Cherry.
First, I took him to Hunters. It was foooouckin packed. It was a holigay weekend and the LA gays were in town. We jumped in the long line for the bar and just like ery other motha fucka’ up in there, we waited for our turn to happen.
My friend pointed toward the door as some young gay guys, around 20 something came in and took off their shirts. They were skinny, slightly toned, blond, blue eyed and all so young. Correction, I left out something …..they were all young, loud and entitled. My whore friend thought they were hot… me meh… not so much. I’ve said it ova and ova I like some grey up in that hair and some wrinkles on that face. I want to be the one that looks young and that’s not going to happen next to some twinky 20 somethin year old. LOL
Well, they looked at our direction and then made way for the bar. I pointed to the back of the line… “Hey- HEEEEY- the back of the line is over there.” All of them were surprised that someone would have the audacity to say anything to them or that they would have to wait in line for drinks. I recognized all the local people we were standing behind and I thought, “HEEELLLER! Entitled little fucks. These people in front of me actually live here. You don’t deserve to butt in front of them” Yet I smiled, turned and tried to pay them no mind as they made their way to the back of the line.
My friend and I drank, danced, made our rounds with us ending up outside on the patio. We eventually went indoors to escape the sun and parked at a table. It didn’t take long but the same trio of white boy twinks, now drunk white boys and getting drunker as time went on, moved towards our table. We talked, my friend was happy, he totes wanted to bone all of em. Me, meh, but I was happy to play along for him. It was his vacation and theirs too.
After a bit the white boy twinks left and I exhaled with relief. We finished our own drinks and about 20 minutes later it donned on us that we needed to shake our tail feathers out of the bar and into a store. We needed to find something for the Red Dress Party. We talked about getting red harnesses (before I knew what they meant) and build an outfit around it.
We walked across the street, and I just remember being happy to have my friend next to me. We’d been through a lot, seen a lot, and grew up together in so many ways. Finally, someone that knew me, someone that knew all of me- good, bad, and how far I’d come and just how hard I had to fight to get here.
We walked into Rough Trade. And wouldn’t you fuckin know it… there were the drunk young white boy trio twinks from LA. The ringleader… the loud one was now wearing a leather hood. He motioned for us to come over there, and because my whore friend was interested, wanted some dick, and this was his vacation, we did.
Mr. Leatherhood immediately puts his hand around my neck and starts to choke me. I smack his hand off my neck and told him not to do that. “Please, come on. Just let me choke you. Please?”
“Fuck no. I don’t know you white man. No.” He tried again. I pushed his hand away. I said, “Choke him.” Pointing to my friend (he’s the one who wanted to fuck him). He lets him. “See it’s not that bad. Just let me choke you.”
At this point everyone else is chiming in. “Come on. Come on.” My friend, who knows me well… knows I don’t like to be touched aggressively unless were fucking, I know you, and/or I trust you. None of those conditions were met. My friend also knows I have a 3 – strike rule. Meaning, you touch me 3 times and I tell you not to and then the 3 time you get a strike (a fist). You get 3 warnings before I feel like I’ve earned the right to meet you where you are.
Ugh, I was so annoyed by this drunk kid in a leather hood that didn’t even fit him. I was now annoyed with my friend who knows I hate being touched aggressively by people I don’t know, as he was now chiming in with them. “Just let him.” “UGHHH, FINE!” I gave in. “You fuckin let go when I tap your hand. I mean it.”
He put his hand around my throat. My airway was blocked. I tapped his arm. He didn’t let go. I tapped again and he didn’t let go. Quickly I hit his arm in the crook of the elbow, and it buckled breaking his hold. “Fucking happy?” He was. Seems like whitey really enjoyed choking a brown person. At this point I twas already pissed… maybe seething but not letting it show. He had already violated so many boundaries … boundaries that would have gotten him beat up by the 20-year-old me way earlier in the night (by that bitch that’s locked up in that box inside).
I walked away to go find a red harness to wear. We bought our stuff and said bye as he was happily buying the leather hood, “I can use it later.” I thought bubbled to myself, “Not on me you can’t.” He asked, “What are you guys doing later?” I deferred to my friend but thought bubbled again, “I’m going the fuck home.”
We decided to get some food next door at Blackbook. It was also paaacked. I asked if we could sit street side because it was a beautiful Palm Springs evening. Just as we sat, the white boy twink trio walked by and one of the three kept walking. Noted the trio is now a duo. They also stopped to eat at Blackbook. My friend looked at me and I rolled my eyes, “Fine, ask them if they want to sit with us.” And guess what? Those motha fuckas did.
They joined us and Mr. Drunky Leather Hood Twink of course sat right next to me. My friend across from me and his friend across from him. The server brought menus and it took them a moment to get back to us. During that time Mr. Drunky Leather Hood Twink couldn’t keep his hands to himself.
He said he was a dom and liked to beat people. I reassured him I was not the one and it wasn’t on my erotic map to do something like that with someone I don’t know or trust- if at all. Most likely NOT AT ALL.
He reached over and slapped me on my face. I told him, “Don’t fucking do that.” I looked at my friend knowing he could read my thought bubbles, “I’m going fuck this guy up if he doesn’t stop. YOU KNOW I HAVE A 3 STRIKE RULE!” Just then, “Slap” across my face.
I grabbed his hand as I evaluated the situation. Ugh, here we go again, I’m going to get a reputation for beating someone up who deserves it. It’s going to be my fault and I’m going to end up getting in trouble. Ugh, then I’m not going to be able to work in this town and then I’m going to be homeless again. Yes, all of that ran through my head. Sometimes it’s the first thing that does.
“Don’t fucking slap me. I don’t like when people touch my fucking face.” Slap.
“Look, you are going to regret this..” He added, “Just let me slap you. You can slap me.”
I replied, “You don’t want me to fucking slap you. You need to stop.” 3 strikes- he should have been on the ground by now. My heart was breaking- I’m letting another person do whatever they want to me and I’m sitting here taking it after I said no.
Slap 4 happened. I stood up and said, “I’m going fuck you up mother fucker.” He screamed, “Just fuckin slap me.” He put his face out. “You don’t want me to slap you!” He added, “DO IT! Fuckin slap me!”
I reached back and slapped the fuck out of that white man’s face. SAAAALAAAP! His face went sideways and the sound echoed. He was surprised; it hurt, he grabbed his face and it angered him. It was a good slap.
“You told me to slap you, and I told you not to fuckin touch me. That’s 4 fucking times.” He balled up his fists. This mother fucker was going to start throwing punches.
I grabbed both of his wrists and I held them tight. “Mother fucker I promise you I will beat your ass. You don’t want to do that.” He was trying to break free, but I had that little weak mother fucker in my grasps. He kept struggling, “Let me go. I’m going fuckin punch you.” I looked at my friend with anger in my eyes. Thought bubbling, “OMG I’m going to ruin all of these people’s vacation. UGGGGH!!!” He continued to try and break free – fists still balled up and fury in his eyes.
I release his hands, slammed my own hands down on the metal table and quickly squared up saying, “Fine, let’s go mother fucker.”
Finally- his friend jumped in and told him to stop. You could tell that he was thinking about what to do. I said, “Lets go mother fucker.” The waitstaff quickly came and stepped in, the drunk white boy duo quickly left. Then we left. My friend was pissed off that I slapped him so hard and felt like I was overeating, but everything inside of me said I underreacted. I underreacted and although disappointed in myself for letting someone do that to me – I was relieved. She was still locked in the box. But now my friend is yelling at me instead of standing up for me. I ruined his good time because I didn’t want to be touched by this person. I no longer felt safe… I no longer felt valued in this friendship. And just like I thought, this was now my fault. And even worse, just like that, he broke our circle of trust.
Why oh why? Do I have such a slapable face? That was the last time I talked to that friend. I’d never let someone do that to one of my friend’s faces. I would have never expected my friend to sit by and take it. And I definitely wouldn’t be mad at my friend for standing up for themselves.
What kind of a friend are you? What kind of a friend do you want? I know I deserve a better friend than that- because I am one.
SAAAALAAAP!,
The Happy Homo
PS Get out and VOTE!!!!!
PSS This is one of so many stories like this. Don’t touch people’s faces just because you don’t like the way it looks …or just because you don’t like the happy that it displays. You can’t smack the light or joy out of me. Many have tried. All have failed.
PSSS During a stoned laughing brainstorming moment with a girlfriend… we decided to start exploring other avenues of how to turn this blog into something I/we could make money on. We are exploring funny t-shirts and some other things (mental health related) but trying to figure out the best way to do store. Here was her test run at shirts… I proudly wore it already. LOL Does anyone have the skinny on the best way to do a store? Make shirts etc.?
