Queer From Coast to Coast

We all watch movies, yes Romantic Comedies just admit it, where the main character has that moment of realization that they could have done something to avoid their current condition or misfortune.  Fuck, we all have those moments.  I believe it is a universal, human being kind of condition.  The fact of the matter is that YES, these moments could have been avoided had you read the FUCKING FLAGS, or in my case not had that last double shot of tequila, but that is neither here nor there at the moment.  A flag is that feeling, that metaphoric sign that pops up above the person you’re dealing with most of the time in a ROMANTIC OR FUCKING situation.  Most people see the flag yet they do nothing about  it, hence their current condition or misfortune.  I would call this condition the REALITY OF FEELING MESSY.  It’s not rocket science.  I’m here to bring up a few flag moments, so that anyone reading who is a social creature will be aware of their existence the next time they are in a particular situation and will be able to avoid the REALITY OF MESSY.

THE FLAGS

Red Flags: Dont Fucking Touch this Person!!!  Otherwise you are going directly  to jail and not collecting $200 when you pass go.  We have all seen the flags, the red flag is a clear indication of CRAZY.  Crazy is a broad category and will vary from person to person.

An example of a Red Flag…Let’s say you’re in a dark gay bar and you just took that shot of tequila.  This short dyke is starting up some conversation with you and pulls out the “Newly Single” card.  Your response, “Oh, what does newly mean in this situation?”  Short dyke then proceeds to answer by saying “9 Months.”  THIS IS A RED FLAG response.  Yeah yeah yeah, I get it a person’s concept of the term “Single” will vary but if you’re at a bar on a Friday night talking about casual fucking, this is not the appropriate response that you’re looking for.  This response equals CRAZY CLINGER.  The correct action should be turning around and getting the fuck out of there, hence reading that flag and maybe going home alone but defininately going home with one less crazy.  Inappropriate response and failure to acknowledge the red flag would be, yes…making out with short dyke against the wall.

The repercussions of not reading the red flag range depending on the amount of CRAZY that the person to whom the red flag belongs embodies.  Lets address the repercussion of our bar story.  Failure to acknowdge the red flag occurred on Friday, four days later on Tuesday you receive a text message from short dyke.  This is a mistake text because it was meant for another person yet short dyke is inquiring about you.  Bad news bears…CRAZY.  Then a bunch of other texts from short dyke get sent because your true identity is discovered.  “Let me buy you a drink to redeem myself for the other night.” No response on your end, this is an absolute MUST!  Another set of texts “I think your sexy, great, intelligent [blah blah blah] and I know I probably won’t hear from you so I feel like an utter dick.”  Again the correct response is no response….IGNORE IGNORE IGNORE.  More texts…all odds point to the initial observation of CRAZY CLINGER.  At some point you have to acknowledge the red flag and hopefully some action can be taken to rectify your poor lapse of judgment.

Purple Flags: The purple flag is much like many drugs.  Like Purple Kush and Purple Haze, it starts off great then it materializes into a big mistake.  The basic meaning of this flag is that you’re mistaking your feelings for a person.  The mistake being that you should only really be friends with this person.

The reason that most people overlook this flag is that you are attracted to the person in question.  You want to explore their intimates and all that good shit.  You want them to bring you to that fantastic voyage that is ORGASM but the fact remains…this is not a good idea.  You serve a greater purpose to this person…FRIEND.  Instances in this are people that have just gotten out of a relationship that turned rocky sour.  Another, is that you know right off the bat that this person is CRAZY.  Crazy people are great as friends, fucking fucks up the dynamic.  Don’t get it twisted though, you DO NOT want to surround yourself around too many crazies…that’s a recipe for messy disaster.  The last one would involve emotional issues.

Indigo Blue Flags: This particular flag ilicits a feeling of intrigue, but it’s fucking murky waters.  This person hides their crazy like nobody’s fucking business.  Small signs will appear, much like a hurricane and then before you know it BAM you’re hit with the CRAZY.

Signs for these flags are very subtle.  Be aware.

Rainbow Flags:  It’s a magic carpet ride.  Out of this world…all systems point to go.  FUCK YOUR BRAINS OUT.  This person is a win.  You will get what you want and they will get what they want.  It’s not complicated unless YOU make it complicated.  Cherish these flags that are few are far between.  Turn on some Coolio and go on the fantastic voyage.  A little queer out there would have shot it’s load somewhere in the solar system because you have received the gift of encountering the Rainbow flag.

I hope this has served it’s informative purpose of just paying attention to your surroundings.  It’s cause and effect people.  If you disregard the flag you will be hit with a shit storm of messy with a varying degree of suffering.

Well I am new to this world…I’m practically internet illiterate.  I figured as a trial run I’d introduce myself.  I’m a 60 year old gay man trapped in a 23 year old female body.  Let’s break it down like this, a day in the life of Mel.  Days vary based on what sort of television I have planned to watch that evening.  Yesterday seems like a good day to describe, it will give you a panoramic view of the messiness.  I woke up at 9.30am and turned on Shark Week, yes folks yesterday was Day 1 of the magical week that I have to look forward to.  Shark Week is amazing!  I ate a banana pancake as I watched how Seals escape the Jaws of their predators…fucking fascinating.  Then I went to Borders, nothing interesting just hating my life while applying for 25 jobs that I will probably get no response from.  I always go to borders and take a stroll around the Vampire Romance Novels.  People shop or eat when they are depressed, I window shop at borders and compile a list of must reads that I’ll eventually buy if I ever get a paycheck again.  The one up about using the internet at borders is that when I’m depressed I can download classical music and opera…that’s right folks I listen to opera when I’m depressed or when I’m reading quietly at home.  Got home and made a delicious sandwich, one of the many talents that I was able to acquire while attending the University of Redlands.  I make an orgasmic sandwich, instantaneous pleasure when it reaches your mouth.  Went to the movies with my mother because she has now become the person I hang out with most, lovely.  We saw Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time.  It was not homoerotic as I thought it was going to be, but surprise surprise the tolken black guy had to die because he sacrificed his life.  The chick was beyond hot, most of the time I was hoping for her sheer outfits to fall off her body and display something breathtaking that I could go home and flab myself too.  Her name is Gemma Arterton.  I googled her and she only looks that hot, in my opinion and I’m picky as fuck, in the Prince of Persia.  I went home and spent about 4 hours watching television, this was a mix of the FoodNetwork, Univision and ABC (the gates).  I fell asleep listening to a Yogi Meditation CD.  I woke up at 8.20 today and immediately turned on Shark Week.  It’s a viscious fucking cycle.

Let’s re-cap:

I have opinions, a lot of them when I see couples out in public.  Yesterday I was buying some PHO because it makes everything better, and a couple walked in.  I FUCKING HATE HATE HATE WHEN COUPLES HAVE TO SIT ON EACH OTHERS LAPS TO EAT A FUCKING MEAL.  I will look at the couple in a judgmental sort of way when doing something like that.

I want to wear a brown coat like Emmett does on Queer as Folk so that I can look like a tragic, hippie nymph.

I want a furry dog to love me affectionately.

Desafion: La Gran Batalla (latin version of survivor on Univision) has Ana Maria, my Cuban Goddess.

I’ll try and write something worthwhile from now on.  This was just practice-like