My Gay Army Hero

Stoned Soul Picnic

2008-08-21T18:02:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I know it’s been forever since I've updated this blog. It’s been a really crazy 20 days. I’m feeling crunch time to get all my plans done before my soldier comes home. He will be here in 14 days. I can’t believe I will see him in only 14 days. I’m planning on picking him up at the base and we are going to drive home together. I thought that if I picked him up it would give us 2 days to get to know each other again and really spend time one on one and not get dumped right back into our “normal” lives.

The farm has now sold and we have 2 people fighting over it so it will be a matter of time till we will be looking for a new home. I’ve been taking these last few months to really examine my life and what is important to me. I seem to have a very abstract list that I’m working from. It ranges from ideas and concepts to people.

My Son and Soldier (after this one there is no order to these)
Family
Home
Things of Quality
Work
Simplified Life
Time (not more, but better)
Organized
Friends
Giving
Security (Financial and Emotional)

I have our home paired down now to just the items that we love, need and want to surround ourselves with. If they don’t fall into the categories listed above then we don’t need them. I want to only keep the items that we can use, that are of the best quality and that mean something to us. It’s a freeing feeling to be pairing down. I don’t feel like I’m loosing anything. In fact, I feel like I am no longer a slave to my belongings. In the past I felt tied to them.

I guess I am a product of family guilt. My grandmother when I was a kid used to hang onto everything. She had a story for everything. If she didn’t have one she would make it up. She firmly believed in being colorful. There is a plate in my kitchen on the wall that she SWORE was off the Mayflower. . . . What makes it fun is that our family arrived in the 1700’s in Connecticut; about 250 miles and 200 years later.

I think I’m going to like my new simple life. I feel like we are at the point in our lives that we need to surround ourselves with loving family, fulfilling work, good food and beautiful surroundings.

I’m at the age now where simplicity is going to take over this complicated life. As an example we would have a few Christmas trees around the house. They were always beautiful but the stress of “getting it all done” wasn’t worth it. Looking back I think I would have a better time with one really great tree a simple pine wreath on the door and a few simple decorations than covering the house with the holidays. I have gotten rid of over ½ the holiday stuff now.

I want our new home to not have a lot of landscaping. I definitely want an herb garden and some simple plants that smell great and are useful too. I want to make things, eat and be healed by this garden. I know it sounds “tree hugger” but I think it would be a fun hobby that would be beneficial too. I want it to be small and not get out of hand. Like I said I want a simpler life, not over do it. Right now we have 5 acres of landscaping that needs tended to.

I want to be able to spend more time with my son and soldier now that he is coming back. I don’t want to think, “Gee I need to come home and clean the house.” I want us to be more spontaneous and adventurous. If my soldier says he wants to go somewhere and do something then instead of coming up with every excuse why we need to stay home I want to just say “sure, let’s see how we can make that happen.” I want to live life now not let life do me in and if we pair down we can have the expenses to make anything happen.

What I need to do is finally keep life in perspective. If something doesn’t fit, get rid of it. If someone wants us to do something that doesn’t fit, don’t do it. Put our goals first and make the most of every moment. My new life is almost like one of those 60’s mind bending tunes about trees, life, flowers and of course Miss Mary Jane. Just go with the flow, love everyone and of course fill it with lots of time and wine.

Pink Is My Signature Color

2008-07-31T14:37:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I am gay. I know that doesn’t seem like a news flash for those of you who read this column. Anyone who spends more than 5 minutes with me would be able to figure that out. I run a shop in a smaller sized town of about 140,000 residents. You have to keep in mind that I am in rural-ish, hick-ville Ohio. I know there are a TON of gay guys here; most are just not out to their wives or girlfriends. For the most part gay people are not a knowing part of the town’s everyday lives. We gay folk tend to be in the shadows and thought of as decorators or 40+ year old women’s single best friends.

I have a couple that have just recently started to come into my shop. The husband was an attractive man in his mid to late 20’s. He looked like someone that could have been very attractive just a few years ago, but had decided to let middle age spread start a little early. His wife was a cute, petit blond who looked like she was the prom queen, homecoming queen and the star cheerleader all wrapped up. She was that nauseating perky that made you think that her name could be Jennifer, Heather or Brittany. I’m sure her favorite colors were blush and bashful, not plain pink. They were the perfect Stepford Christian Evangelical couple as I would find out.

Now I want to clear something up. I identify myself as a Christian. I do believe Christ died for my sins and I don’t mind telling anyone that asks me about my faith. I try to practice my faith as much as I can and live a decent life. I don’t have any problems with anyone’s beliefs. If you want to believe that an ant is your god that’s your business. I feel that people are entitled when they die to end up wherever they choose. If that’s the great ant hill in the sky, hey it’s your afterlife.

I was off yesterday from the shop. This aforementioned “perfect” couple stopped in. Paul, my cool, early 20’s, straight as an arrow stock boy was working last night. While browsing they saw some pictures of my son on the back wall of the store behind the counter. These pictures are those “drawings” that you get at Chuckie Cheeses. They are the graphics generated pictures that you put a token in and out pops the picture. I feel sorry for the kid, because with his glasses on he is the spitting image of me. He just dresses better at eight than I did. As a gay parent I have to keep him in the latest fashions for the pre-tween set.

This woman in this couple happened to mention that they thought that was me in the pictures. Paul told her that it was my son. They asked then the next logical question for them. Is he married? Paul told them I was not. They evidently were surprised that I had a son. When he asked them why that was they were surprised all they could say was “well he’s gay.” (I want to know who the SOB was that told on me!) They then had to tell Paul what I had already suspected; that they were Christian and that they didn’t know why I would CHOOSE to be gay. Paul told them that my soldier and I have been together for over 7 years. All they could say was that they were sorry for me. I guess they think that I needed to be brought into the real arms of Jesus and I was just leading an unsaved, pagan trash life.

I want to know why every Christian-straight person feels sorry for gay people. You would think that I have some sort of birth defect that medicine cant cure. Normal, straight people think that we have autism and should be pitied and placed in a home and forgotten about. I think that these people take the bible had hide behind it to mask their own insecurities. I can’t tell you how many guys there are in church that are married and looking for guy love on the down low.

I’m not sure if the problem is educational, societal, historical or cultural or all of the above. I never felt sorry any straight guys that CHOOSE to be with a woman. If that is what the guy is programmed to do, then by all means that is what he should do. I just expect the same consideration. Is that wrong?

In the end there are these Neo-Christian Evangelicals who believe that everyone chooses who to sleep with. They don’t get it still. Gay people are made that way. I mean think about it; did every straight guy choose to sleep with women? I bet they never even thought about it. There isn’t any in-between here. Either you are gay or you are not. Either you are straight or not or some people like both. There are really only a few options and most people aren’t able to mentally make the jump from one group to the next. I was married, but all I thought about was being with a man. I was married for social reasons, not for the real reasons people get together. I could never love a woman the way I love my soldier.

We Christians need to come to terms that God makes everyone and that he wouldn’t make us choose who we love. He just asks that we love everyone, not feel sorry for them. It’s a shame that some feel that they can make others love and live like they do, not how God made us to. The next time this couple comes in the store it will take all my compassion and Christian love not to tell them that they are the ones I feel sorry for. After all pink is still just pink.

The Parent Trap

2008-07-28T14:13:00.001-07:00

I am really blessed to have a man in my life that loves me and my son. I know this seems like a, well duh sort of thing to say, but sometimes the obvious is the best thing to say. My soldier really loves my son and treats him as his own. Good, bad and the ugly he’s there to be a parent to him.

My ex-wife and I had our son in 2000 after 4 years of marriage. His nickname after we found out it was a boy while he was in the womb was “Trojan Man.” He wasn’t really planned at the time, but looking back I can’t think of anything that I could have done better with my life.

We divorced in 2002 after a year of living apart and leading separate lives. I met my soldier in August 2002 and he accepted my son from the very start. He was loving, caring and patient. As everyone knows, a 2 year old will test any relationship, especially one that was new. The stereotype is usually of gay men not wanting children and rejecting men that did because clearly they “couldn’t make their minds up.” Switching teams so to speak is what drives a lot of them crazy. They feel that guys who were married were just trying to fool their wives while they remained “pure” to their homo-ness.

When my son was just 2 I introduced him to my Soldier on one of our dates. I can still remember what I was thinking. I was praying that my son didn’t do anything too wild and would just be a “perfect angel” for the afternoon. He was ok that day, but what I really wanted to know was what my soldier was thinking. I’m not sure it was love at first sight, but over the years they have bonded and have their own special love for each other.

When I was 11 years old my parents divorced and when my Mom remarried it was a few years of adjustment for me to get to really love my step father. I always hoped that my son would feel the same way about my soldier. Since he was only 2 at the time he has been in his life for as long as he can remember. I think that being young has also helped him deal with having a gay father. With him, it’s really a non-issue. Only a few times has he ever brought it up. Asking why I was with a man and not with his mother. I gently tell him that his mom and I are better for each other now than we were together and that we both love him more than ever.

All this brings me to now. When my soldier left for the Army my son didn’t really understand that it was going to be a very long time until he saw him again. He casually said good-bye and got into his mothers car. I think my soldier was hurt and wanted that “Hallmark” moment with him. You know the type where everyone is on the verge or tears and hugging and telling each other that they would miss them and never forget each other. The following weekend when my son came over, he was asking where my soldier was. He thought he would be there. He spent the weekend mopping around and when I asked him what was wrong he said he missed him and wanted to know how long he would really be gone. I had to explain that he wouldn’t be back till he went to school in the fall. Every weekend so far I get the same question. I guess the conception of time is one of those things he needs to work on. He always asks if this is the week for him to come home.

This weekend my son was in my room sitting on the bed with me watching some Spongebob Squarepants while he was having lunch on a tray. It’s a real treat for him to get to eat in there and watch the big TV and lay in the comfy bed. He noticed that I had my soldier’s new Army picture on my nightstand in a frame. He wanted to look at it, so he went over and picked it up. He just sat there and stared at it for a few moments then started to smile. I think it finally made it real for him to see him in his uniform with that typical stern, kick ass look they have in those pictures.

That night we went to see my Father and Step Mother, otherwise known as Mamaw and Papaw. They had bought him a “Bear Force” teddy bear of an Army soldier in uniform. His first comment when handed the bear was a very jocular “aww sweet.” (He’s so straight acting) He was so in love with this bear from the moment they gave it to him. He named it after my soldier and just kept playing with all the pockets and saying how really cool it was.

I just sat there in the car watching him and me trying not to tear up. I guess I was happy to know that my son loves my soldier as much as my soldier loves him. I guess it’s something that I already knew, but it’s still sweet to witness him having those feelings for the man I love. But then again, how could he not? He’s his daddy’s son and his daddy loves both of them more than anything.

Almond Joy's Got Nuts, Mounds Don't

2008-07-23T17:18:00.000-07:00

I came out to my mother today. I know what you are thinking and yes she already knew I was gay, we covered that years ago. What I mean is today is the first time that we had that talk about sex and what we gay people do and more importantly to her what me and my soldier do/did when we were feeling randy.

I think it was a shock to her as she was asking the questions. It was one of those times that she really didn’t want to know, but the details were so salacious she could not stop asking. She did want to know, but only to perpetuate the next question.

I knew we would be in for a great ride when out of her mouth came “honey, do you and your soldier (she said his name) ever, you know . . . . . how do I put this. . . . um, so which one of you is the man or woman? Do you ever switch?” Well I was going to have fun with this one. I love to torture my mother with details of things she doesn’t want to know. You know, when you’re driving and you pass something dead on the side of the road. . . “Hey mom did you see that thing?”

We covered all the bases. “Do you, you know put it in you?” "Of course" I said "and you know what? I enjoy it." That about threw her over the edge. She didn’t want to think of her baby taking it you know where. She then wanted to know if my soldier did “that sort of thing.” I said "sure he did." I had to have that conversation explaining that in a committed gay relationship flip flopping was common and was our preference. Hey, sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don’t.

We went through all the painful details about "how does that work? Does it fit?" I had to laugh. . . I told her that my nickname was “soda can.” This made her noticeably uncomfortable. Then I followed it up with a “thank you mama.” I told her something about how mothers are the ones that genetically decide how large a man's member is. I think I read that somewhere, anyway it was a priceless look on her face when I mentioned that.

I know this all sounds sort of mean to tell her all these things. When I told her that me and my soldier had visited bath houses over the years (about 2 to be exact) she died. She actually told me that having a guy watch us have sex could cause us to “get AIDS.” I told her that it would be impossible. She then followed it up with “well he could throw himself on you at the last moment.” I think I about rolled out of the chair. What irks me is that we gay folk have to explain what role we “play” in bed. Why can’t we just be 2 men who love each other and have a great time in bed? Why does someone have to be the man or the woman?

Where I am going with this is, the fault for the “misunderstandings” lies with both gay children and parents. Gay children tend to isolate parents who really only hear rumors about what goes on in the bedroom and they have no real conception of what happens, all they can go on is their own experience. I had to tell her that sometimes you don’t have anal sex that it’s ok to just have oral or any other variation as long as both partners were satisfied at the end. I asked her if she ever just did that. She had a surprisingly fresh answer. “Yeah I have done that, but I get bored with it.” I had to remind her of her gag reflex. She agreed.

We need to do a better job of living out our lives in front of our parents and other “outsiders.” From now on I won’t feel uncomfortable holding hands, getting a quick peck on the cheek or saying I love my soldier in front of my parents. Its not that I was ashamed of whom I was or who my partner was. I just didn’t want to make my parents uncomfortable. I think that it has actually made them less understanding and more ignorant than they would have been had we actually started with this talk years ago.

The moral of this story is you should be who you are in and out of the bedroom even if that means someone is watching you. Just be careful someone doesn’t throw themselves on you. It could be messy.

Stick it, Don’t Pick It

2008-07-22T16:18:00.000-07:00

Today is an important day for me. I only have 45 days till my life can be somewhat normal again. That’s right; September 5th is my soldier’s D day. It really has seemed to go fast. I don’t know why that is. Before the time happens it takes forever, once its over, looking back it wasn’t that long.

Last night I got a text from my soldier. He was not in a good mood again. It seems from the sketchy details I could glean from the message there was a “disagreement” with this 18 year old Hispanic guy about how the beds should be made. (It seems really stupid to me, but like I said I don’t have many details.) There was some throwing of pillows and blankets and someone came close to getting their ass kicked I think (no matter what happened I would say “you should have seen the other guy when I was done.” Anyway this is the kind of shit that my soldier can’t stand. He really isn’t into playing games with these people. He’s there to do a job and get out, not rule the world or act like he rules it in the barracks.

Once again I got the inevitable text saying he wants to come home. This time I think I was prepared. I responded with the tell me about what you are feeling/doing attitude rather than a mother who wants her baby to come home. I really don’t know if this worked or not. I haven’t had a chance to talk with him today yet. Sometimes I sit and wonder what he is thinking. There isn’t any chance to get a real conversation where you could figure these things out and make a plan. I just want to tell him that this isn’t how it’s going to work once he’s out of Fort Jackson. This isn’t the “job” he will be doing. This is a continuation of high school for most of these guys and that means acting stupid.

So here is my little soap box moment. I know that the real world is full of people that piss you off and we all have to learn to deal with it. It’s really disappointing that people who join the military don’t have a better, more professional attitude as a rule than they do. I know the Army will build character in these men and women, but why can’t we as a society start this building process before they get there. It does seem that there is a higher percentage rate of people who lack basic social skills and manners. I witnessed it when I was there. There was a guy who was picking his nose about 2 feet from me. This really took me aback. Here was this guy that represents America to the rest of the world picking his nose in front of a total stranger only 24 inches away. No wonder the French hate us.

Ok, so back to what was going on last night. After I got this message about the fight I tried to send encouraging messages. He had his duty last night so all I got were one word responses. He’s not allowed to be on his phone, but he must have been sneaking me texts. It’s so hard for me to get a clear picture of what he was thinking. I know at that time he was telling himself there has to be something better than this out there. There is I’m sure, but this is where we are at, at this moment in time.

We are in the Army and it may not be pretty all the time, but that’s the real world. I guess the Army really does prepare you for the real world. Let’s hope that these 18 year olds can finally get some of what their mothers didn’t teach them and not pick their nose. They may need that finger to pull a trigger someday.

Smells Like Teen Spirit

2008-07-21T10:28:00.000-07:00

Ok so who doesn’t love to smell great? I am one of those people who are olfactory motivated. If a guy walks past me and smells really wonderful sometimes I could care less what they look like. Smell is a funny thing. It can bring up many memories, some you didn’t even know you had.

There are certain colognes that I can tell you just from the scent which boyfriend wore them, what their name was and who makes them. I also can tell you what perfume my ex wife wore just from the smell. (Giorgio, Ocean Dreams) Keep in mind I’ve been with my soldier for 7 years now. Your brain just holds onto this stuff like your mother’s guilt does when you didn’t show up for Thanksgiving that one year.

I will always associate Calvin Klein’s Obsession with my father. One whiff of that and I’m 11 years old sitting in his car smelling the bottle that he kept in the glove compartment. He used it to freshen up for his dates. My mother and Grandmother always wore the same scent, Chanel #5. They always insisted on the perfume too, never the cologne.

When I was in South Carolina a few weeks ago for my soldier’s graduation we stopped at the local Bath and Body Works. He picked up a few things that would help him feel a little more human. It had been 2 months since he had used real soap or shampoo and he wanted something that he could take back that didn’t look to “girly.” We settled on BBW’s C.O. Bigelow line Elixir Blue. It has a musky, sexy smell that smells clean but has that take me here, take me now scent that really gets me off.

I got this text message on Saturday night letting me know that he had just gotten out of the shower and was smelling really good. I could instantly remember what he smelled like. (I’m sure it was a hell of a lot better that what he smelled like before.) Well, as I was laying there all hot and bothered thinking of him, I made my mind up that I was going to go get some for myself on Sunday.

On Sunday, I went to the store and as is prone for BBW to do, they clearance everything out as fast as they make it. They only had a few bottles left so I snatched them up at the bargain price of 6.00 each. I don’t think they carry many lines that they keep consistent. What is a guy to do when he finds something that he really likes? There are still a few items left from the line on the website, but it is admittedly a brief selection.

http://www.bathandbodyworks.com/product/index.jsp?productId=2678280&cp=&sr=1&origkw=barber&kw=barber&parentPage=search

Last night I took my shower and tried them for myself. I was instantly taken back to South Carolina and our time together. You know those montages they do in television to show you someone’s life passing before them, or remembering a million moments in 20 seconds? I had one last night. My mind was all over the place from our strolls in Charleston to the romantic times alone in our room. It was almost like he was all over me, right there and then.

I guess in a sense he is all over me. His touch, fingerprints, thoughts and feelings are a part of me and can’t be washed off with soap and water, no matter how wonderful or luxurious the soap may be. Like smells that you can recall years later it’s comforting to know that even though he may not be here in person for the time being, he will always be here whenever I need him. All I have to do is open a bottle and inhale.

Just a Little Bit South of North Carolina

2008-07-18T11:15:00.000-07:00

I’m just taking a break for a moment to let you know about a song that I heard for the first time today at work. I know what you are thinking. “Good lord he’s posting song lyrics, how unexpected – very original.” I know, I know, since im blogging here I may as well live up to the stereotype at some point.

There are several songs about the Carolinas such as James Taylors “Carolina in My Mind,” but this song was different for me. It was peppy, fun and cute. I didn’t feel the great loss that I did after listening to the Taylor track while shopping for shoes at a department store. I wanted to get drunk after that one.

Anita O’day recorded this track on March 19, 1941 in New York. I think she perfectly sums up how I’m feeling today – peppy, fun and hopefully cute, but still missing him. There also was hope in this song that some day you will be back together I loved that too.

There is something about torch songs from the 1940’s thru the 1950’s that can make you feel like there has to be other people in the world feeling the same way you do. Here are the lyrics to this little song. It’s got me wishing I was just a little bit south of North Carolina.

Just a Little Bit South of North Carolina

Just a little bit south of North Carolina That's where I long to be
In a little brown shack in South Carolina
Someone waits for me
In each letter she says that the weather is fine and the folks are feeling great
That the garden looks grand and the red rose vine is clinging to the gate

Just a little bit south of North Carolina
That's where my thoughts all stray
To the one I love best in South Carolina I'm going back some day
I can hardly wait to see the face of the one I like
Just a little bit south of North Carolina
I'll find paradise

Just a little bit south of North Carolina
That's where my thoughts all stray
To the one I love best in South Carolina
I'm going back some day I can hardly wait to see the face of the one I like
Just a little bit south of North Carolina
I'll find paradise

The Down Low on the Spin Cycle

2008-07-17T09:49:00.000-07:00

How do you encourage someone to continue something that they don’t feel they want to when you yourself would rather have them give up and come home? (Is it too sex and city to start out with a question?) I know what everyone says. “You tell them you are proud of them and to just stick it out.” I’ve done that. It doesn’t seem to make anything better for him. I don’t even know if it helps when I do say it.

This morning I got a text message from my soldier saying that he wanted to come home. Every time I get one of these texts about coming home many emotions immediately come washing over me like your washing machines spin cycle. On one hand I really want him to come home. On the other, I know him and if he doesn’t complete this he will be sorry that he didn’t. Time has a way of making even the hardest thing seem like it was a breeze. Think of POW John McCain’s claim to fame.

I know when I get theses messages that it’s usually him blowing off steam. This week has been particularly bad for him. He was hoping that life in the Army would be getting a little more like the real world but it hasn’t turned out that way. He’s told me that it’s more locked down than what he was told it would be. It’s more mentally and physically draining than he was prepared for and unlike BT (basic training) he has more time to think. Also he has 8 typically rude 18 year old guys in his room with him that are very loud all the time and don’t seem to know what personal space is. Usually when the texts come I know that by the morning he will be back to his old self.

Today was a different story. I know how important work and what he does is to him. I know he finds his self identity in what he does and what he contributes to the world. He found out that his job he will be doing won’t be as technical (or in his eyes as good) as he once was told. I know that he has to be disappointed that he is now relegated to what he calls a customer service job. I guess in his eyes it isn’t as romantic as lets say a sniper, but someone has to do it. As far as I’m concerned a nice desk job doing customer service is what I want him to be doing. Army guys have a way of wanting to be the one that is shooting, spying or doing something that their wives would rather them not do. We wives want them to stay off the news when they are doing everything they can do to get on it. In the end all of it’s mental. What you perceive as important will make you want to do it. What you don’t you just won’t.

During his first week after BT we talked and texted as much as we could get away with. Sometimes I think that was the wrong thing for me to do for him. Sometimes I wonder if the reason he is having a hard time adjusting to his new school is the distraction of me. During his BT he could only write letters a few times a week. This left him without the time to focus on me, life at home or anything else that could be going on. I know it was lonely for both of us, but he seemed to be enjoying the process more. He seemed to be more committed to it and his decision to join the Army. Also, there was his focus on actually talking to me and his family and seeing all us again. Now, since we talk everyday I can’t help but think that I remind him of what he has here at home and everything that he would rather be doing. Life has a way of making you think of everything you could be doing rather than what you need to.

Don’t get me wrong, I love this man more that anything and would do anything for him. If he told me that he couldn’t take it anymore then I would be there to pick him up faster than a trick at a bar. I am genuinely proud of him. More than I ever thought I could be. What I am struggling with here is how to help him get through this rough time without giving up something he really believed in and wanted. I think I really suck at giving encouragement sometimes. I have the stiff upper lip thing that doesn’t help me in this situation along with the fact that I really do want him home. I have to put my feelings aside and try to encourage him. I want him to be a strong, successful and happy soldier that gives his all to his country. I also want him to feel he has the complete backing of his family to do his mission, even if that means customer service.

I know all this strong wife behind every successful soldier thing sounds like standard Army Wife BS, but its true. You have to be there for them to encourage them to go on even though it’s probably not what you or they want. I have to be there listening to him and not talking as much. I have to hear what he needs, not what I want to hear. I know that this world isn’t perfect and that there are times that I am going to screw up and put me and my petty feelings first. Let’s face it; in a perfect world we wouldn’t even need an Army and he would be home.

A Tingly Texting New Life

2008-07-15T14:50:00.000-07:00

So we’ve gone back to our respective new lives this past week and I must say it kind of sucks except that we can now talk. By “talk” I mean as much as I can tap out in a 160 characters or less. Texting on my outdated cell phone has now taken over my life like the Beatles did on the Ed Sullivan Show. I must say it all feels down right tween like.

We have shifted from writing letters to sending a slew of text messages. I used to make fun of people that sent text messages all the time. I thought it was a replacement for real conversation and took all the emotion out of speaking. You could get more out of a voicemail. Well my position has changed. We have since sent over 500 text messages over the course of 7 days. I get all tingly when I get one at 4am. (I have it set to ring REALLY loud so it wakes me up.) It’s almost like he’s lying next to me whispering in my ear “good morning, I love you.”

My new found glories of text messaging have made me painfully aware that my phone is not adequate for this new part of my life. I have the “old school” style flip phone that you have to scroll through every letter to get one that you need. It can take me 5 minuets to send off a message. To my credit, I can now mostly type what I need without looking as long as it’s not to “weird” of a letter. I can even do it fairly effectively while driving.

This has now become my “norm” for conversation. It is really the only way that we can talk. He can’t call, because it’s very loud in the barracks all the time and he’s not allowed to be outside on the phone. Evidently its not becoming of a soldier to have a cell phone plastered to your head while you should be saluting someone who is going to yell at you not matter what you do. Occasionally I get an IM message from him when he can have his lap top out. That usually only lasts no more that 1 or 2 hours at night or until the signal goes dead. For some reason the base cant seem to get their WIFI act together. I guess it’s not a priority of the defense department.

As I mentioned earlier, I can get all tingly when these messages from space appear on my phone. Nothing beats getting to know what is going on there at the base. Sometimes because of the way the military is set up you can really feel out of the loop on what’s going on. Things change at the last minute and start and stop times mean nothing till they are over. These messages keep me posted and a part of his life. I guess the fear I had while we were separated by letter writing is would it still be important for us to talk everyday. I was worried that time would make us not need each other in the same way we did when we were together in person and that we would grow into two different circles rotating in opposite directions.

These little life lines of text messaging have made that fear for me disappear. I now know that I need to communicate with him everyday. While I was a little overzealous in the first few days of texting, I have found that a few well sent messages can make me feel better while getting the jist of the “going ons” of his life away from home. I learned that you can’t treat texting as an actual conversation. Short cuts have to be developed and you have to be concise and smart about your choice of topics and words.

I used to think that texting would ruin the English language and the need for real communication and writing. (No comments about this column please.) It’s funny then that it would become such an integral part of my life. I don’t think that I will make fun of people who text more than talk. Who knows maybe they are connecting with that one person who means everything to them and this is the only way they can.

Long Days Journey Into . . .

2008-07-08T10:59:00.000-07:00

Love is a funny thing. It can make you think things, do things and be places that you never thought that you would. I never have had any desire to see Fort Jackson South Carolina before. Its strange how having your other half there makes it a very dear place that you don’t want to leave or if you do leave together.

We got there on Tuesday night and I settled in for one of the longest nights that I can remember. I don’t think I have ever paced, fiddled and fidgeted that much since my son was born. I took two baths that night and that did seem to calm my anxious nerves. I got all my clothes out, ironed and ready to go. I was agonizing over what put on the next day. I wanted to make a good impression and look good for him. I finally drifted off to sleep about midnight after making some crucial choices.

At about 4:30am I woke up with a little beep going off on the night stand. I had gotten a text message from my soldier. This was the first time that I had gotten a message from him since April. I sat there and started to cry when I saw that. Evidently they had gotten their phones back that night and he was secretly texting me. I sent him back a response of how much I loved him and missed him. I just laid there and prayed that it would be 7:30 soon. It seemed to take forever. I think I drifted in and out of sleep till about 6:30 when I got up and got dressed and ready. My parents came to the room at 7:30 so we could go get some breakfast and be at the family day briefing by 9:00.

I sat there at breakfast and all I had was a bite of a waffle and 4 glasses of OJ. I couldn’t stop drinking but I was so excited that I couldn’t eat anything. After we were done we left for the base. We got there on time and then I realized that our line wasn’t moving anywhere going into the base. We just sat there. If I didn’t think that one of the guards would have me shot for running the gates I would have gotten out of the car and made a run for it. We were backed up because of a wreck on the highway. The events started at 9:00 sharp and here it was 8:55 and we were going to be late. I almost lost it in the back seat there. Once we got the field I realized that they had held up the events because of the wreck. We got our seats and waited to see what was going to happen.

When an Army vehicle with 3 “Arab” soldiers in the back packing heat appeared on the field I was getting a little antsy. I wasn’t in the mood for a “Disneyland extravaganza” showing off what they can do to 3 Arabs that you know they are going to beat. When 4 or 5 Army soldiers came out to “defend” us I don’t think there was any doubt who would win. We did suffer 1 casualty, but I think he will make it since the Arabs were “pronounced” dead and our guy was taken out on a stretcher.

After this spectacle was over they asked the crowd if we were ready to see our soldiers. We all screamed YES and they all ran out of the woods beyond the stands and in 30 seconds they were all assembled on the field. At this point I lost it again. I was thanking god that I had sunglasses on and you couldn’t see exactly what was happening. I think my step mother saw me. She patted my leg.

After a few words by someone I didn’t care about we were all told to go down and find our soldier. My worst nightmare came true at this point. I went down and was searching through all the faces and not recognizing any. Then I did it, I walked right past him. He reached out and grabbed his step mom and there I was looking and feeling like an idiot. I have always wondered what he would look like. I never thought that I wouldn’t be able to recognize him.

I stood there for what seemed like 6 hours but must have only been 30 seconds. He hugged his dad and step mom and my parents. Then he came over to me and gave me a very quick hug. I couldn’t speak I just stood there and gave a quick hug back. I could smell the sweat on his neck. I hated not being able to grab him and hold him. For one of the only times in my life I didn’t know what to do. We stood around and looked at each other and the ground. In my head I was so happy, but I didn’t want give to much emotion away.

When we got him in the car I just sat there and stared at him. I now knew why I didn’t recognize him. He was so skinny and in shape. I didn’t know how big his chest and arms would get. His ass looked like something you could bounce a quarter off. He sat there in the car holding my hand and I was happy for the first time in months. They wouldn’t let him off base that day so we just sort of hung out with all the relatives in tow. When we had to take him back it was sad. I don’t think he wanted to go, but he had to. Besides I knew that tomorrow he was going to get off base and be with me for 3 days.

We went to the graduation the next day and it went off without a hitch. We got there so early this time we had front row center seats so that we could see everything. It was shorter than I thought it would be. I think it lasted only about 30 min or so. After he got back on the bus we had to wait for him to get back to his bunk and in his new school area before we could pick him up. It seemed to be taking all day. At about 3:30 we picked him up and we were on our way to Charleston to see the beach and spend some time alone.

In the car I couldn’t stop looking at him. He was exhausted from months of no sleep and he just fell over in my lap and went to sleep. He was snoring so loud my dad had to turn the radio on. I just sat there for 2.5 hours stroking his hair. (or what is left of it) When we got to the hotel I woke him up and we went upstairs. When we got in the room I started to say something and then he grabbed me. He hugged me so tight that I thought he was going to crack my ribs. I just held on crying and laughing at the same time. It was so strange. I’ve never done that before. The next 2 hours were some of the most emotional and satisfying hours of my life.

We spent the next part of the weekend getting re-acquainted with each other. I was trying to see if he had changed at all and if he did was it for the better. I think he is still the same person that he was before but there are some things that are different. I think he is a little more confident and a little more self assured. The only thing that I thought was funny was when I was brushing my teeth he came in the bathroom and started to pee. We have always had an unwritten rule of alone bath time. I guess you get over that with 1000 other guys doing it around you all the time.

When the time came to go the same feelings came back again when he left the first time. I had this unshakable depression and ache that I can’t describe. All I could think of was “good lord two more months of this. Its all starting over again.” Before this time I was working through it to get to this point and it felt like I was back at the start again. I wanted to turn that car around and break him out and bring him back to me.

I know two months is not that long. I don’t know how people who have 12 and 18 month deployments make it. I will deal with it I suppose if it happens to me, but I will hate it I know. I think that it hit us both that this could happen. Before this visit it was far down the line. Now that it was here it didn’t seem so far for my comfort. I have tremendous respect for each solider and family that has to go through this. It is a very humbling thing to think about and go through. It changes everyone it touches.

I know that I will be the good Army wife and be here keeping the home fires burning supporting and being there for my soldier. I just pray for a quick end to this war. I know who I am voting for this year. I can’t do this for the next 100 years.

Hold My Hand Again

2008-06-23T16:06:00.001-07:00

Ok, so let me just be the first to say that this has been one hell of a busy month and I am sorry that I haven’t been able to post anything recently. Let’s see what has happened over the last 20 days.

It’s really hard to have children and go on Vacation as a “single parent”. I am sure that there are many that do it, but still it’s really hard. They should make a holiday for those single parents so when they come back they can recoup from it.

It really was spectacular. I had the time of my life. We took a train to Disney World. I want to be the first person to say that I really don’t like amusement parks. I get sick on a lot of rides and need some down time after each. My son is your typical 7 year old. He wants to go, go, and go. I swear there is no other person on this planet that could get me to plunge 50 feet straight down.

We took the Amtrak from Cleveland to Kissimmee. That was a new experience for him and since he absolutely loves trains we thought that he would just be “enraptured” to travel there by train. All I can say is I am glad that we flew back home. It took 2 days to get there and the entire time he couldn’t wait for it to be over with. When I told him to look out the windows at certain times I would get this response – “daddy, I’ve seen trees before.” God, why does he have to sound like me all the time?

My attitude changed when we were in line for our first “action ride.” We were at Splash Mountain and there in line were these little kids that could be no more than 3 years old. They looked like the little people from the wizard of oz. I had to laugh at myself. If these little kids could do it then how could I complain out riding these things? My attitude changed again as we fell down the big drop at the end. I am such a baby that I found myself with my head behind my son as he was screaming “yeah baby” as we went down the hill. He did tell me that I could hold his hand if I wanted too. I thought "good lord, get it together here, your 31 years old."

As we rode more and more I think it was a bonding experience for us. He proclaimed Big Thunder Mountain his favorite ride of all and because of the slow economy there were no lines this time. This was my 3rd time at the park and I have never been able to ride Big Thunder Mountain 22 times in a row. We tried every seat and every position we could come up with. The best and really freakiest was when we rode it 2 times when the fireworks were going off overhead. It was beautifully scary if you know what I mean.

We did it all there. I think I brought my gay sensibility to the days. We did every ride he could get on, but we did them all in an organized, orderly fashion. This sometimes made him crazy but it did make sure that we didn’t miss anything. All I was really glad about was he was too short to complete his “mountain” trilogy. He was 3 inches to short to ride Space Mountain. I was thankful. I have hated that ride since I was 6 years old and my mom told me how great it was. I think I was a crying mess when I got off it. I didn’t want to do that again.

On our last day there, we “did” Epcot. There was one ride there that I would never do again. It was the Mission to Space. There are 2 levels to this ride. You can pick the easy or the hard level. Well my son of course decided that we needed to do that hard level. It evidently was designed by NASA to feel like you were going to Mars. They strap you in and assign you a “job” to do on the ship. I was the pilot. I have no idea how I got that job. All I can say was they mean what they say when they say “don’t close your eyes. Don’t look away and don’t throw up.” They simulate take off and it was the worst experience of the trip. The pressure and the force of the take off along with the video was enough to make you sick. (All the same time my son I screaming how great this is.) I won’t be back for that one again.

After I got back it’s been a full 2 weeks of working and showing the farm to buyers. We had 3 showings over the last weekend and they all looked good. There is one person that is coming back this Wednesday to look at it again. Lets all hope that it goes well.

I still can’t believe that I only have 1 week till I get to see my soldier. Words can’t express how I feel right now. It’s almost like I am getting ready for our first date with the knowledge of what he looks like with his cloths off. Its funny, I can still see him how he looked when I first saw him and I wonder if that is what its going to be like. Granted, we won’t be on our cell phones scanning the parking lot of our local movie theater trying to meet up, but in a sense it’s the same with lots of drama, stars and d-listers.

Hopefully he will still tell me the same thing he said on that first date. “If you want, you can hold my hand and put your head on my shoulder.” Then I know everything will be alright again.

I’ll check back after graduation on July 3rd. Have a good week

Yokels, The Days Inn and the Smell of Lube

2008-06-03T07:56:00.000-07:00

I just want to be the first to say that I hate small town hospitals. My Mom checked herself into her local-yokel “hospital.” The place is a real dump. I actually feel dirty when I’m in there. It could use a good bath and new paint or just be knocked down. Anyway, she had her surgery at the end of last week. The doctors think everything went well. We should actually get the results back today. They were removing some cancer cells they had found in her colon. It had spread to the wall of the colon so that made it a little more serious, but the doctors said that everything looked well.

Now I love my Mom dearly, but she at times has a way of being dramatic that can only be described as “theatrical.” She made me realize something. Feelings are like treasures. They should be buried deep, deep, deep inside. She was acting so depressed and despondent that she was, I think affecting her treatment. She was calling me telling me that this was the end and that she hoped that I would let my son know that she cared for him. This happened more than one time too.

I guess it’s nice to know that you are the person that someone calls when they need a pick me up, but I feel that you must force yourself to have a positive attitude in the face of a life threatening illness. The body has a better chance to cure itself from the inside with medicine and help from the outside if we all think positive. In short I hope that when my “sick time” comes that I don’t let the fear show and I will be able to bear up and be very “British” about it in front of people. If you’re positive people around you are positive and that reinforces your positive-ness (I know that’s not a word)

I had my five minutes this week talking to my soldier. It’s really not enough. I always feel empty after each call. I thought when this process started that I would be more uplifted after the calls. I want them to never stop, but just as soon as I get into a groove to talk about EVERYTHING that happened in the past week he has to go. I’ve started to make bullet points on important things so that I don’t miss my chance to say it.
He said that he had mail call everyday. On their website for the base, I was reading that mail call seemed to happen on Sunday only so I wrote about 3-4 letters a week. I think this week I will write him everyday. Hopefully I can say EVERYTHING I have to say that way.

Next week I am going on vacation. I have mixed feelings about it. It was supposed to be my mom, step-father and me taking my son to Disney World for a few days to get away for a good time as a family and for me to get my mind off being lonely and missing my soldier. Because of my Moms cancer I now have to go alone with just me and my son. Not that I won’t enjoy spending time with him. It just won’t be the same as it would have been with everyone else or my soldier.

What I am really excited about is it being less than 30 days till the Army’s graduation date. I will be in South Carolina over the July 4th weekend. I really am looking forward to seeing him again and I have so many questions. I wonder what he looks like now. I hope that he hasn’t changed too much in his looks or personality. I guess that’s always been a fear in the back of my head. “What if he is not the same? Will we still get along? After he’s been surrounded by all those perfect, young Army boys will he still want me? It’s also his birthday that weekend so I am planning on taking a cake, presents and anything else I can find and have a party at the hotel for him.

I do hope that he can stay overnight at least one night while I am there. It sounded like the Saturday after graduation they could do that if they got permission. Most people would think that after that long without him it would be a night filled with sex, passion and the smell of lube. I think actually what’s going to happen is it will be the first night in a long time that I will be comfortable. We will probably fall fast asleep while he wraps his arms around me. That will make even the crummiest Days Inn a luxury for me.

What Can I Do to Bring on the Apocalypse? Just Have Dinner

2008-05-27T09:42:00.000-07:00

This has been one of those weeks that I felt like the apocalypse was just around the corner. It was a perfect storm. Mental exhaustion, physical duties and outside stress all came together to make this truly a holiday week from hell.

Monday I was feeling good. I thought this will be great. I was scheduled to work only till 3:00 on Friday and then I would be off till the following Tuesday. All I had to do was make it till then and then I could spend some time away from pressure and stress, or so I thought.

Tuesday was uneventful. I went to work and came home. I was excited I was loosing weight. (lost another 3lbs since I last checked.) I was feeling good and stopped on my way home for dinner at Bob Evans. I have now taken the habit of bringing in a magazine or book to read while eating alone. It makes me at least feel less self-conscious. I always feel that people look down on others that eat alone. I guess it makes people think you have a purpose and you’re just not sad and lonely.

Wednesday I was at work. About half way though the day I got a call from my Mom. She had some routine tests done and they came back not so good. She evidently has colon cancer and needs to have part of it removed. She was hysterical and crying. She had already given up and was convinced that she was going to die. (I’m sure that we have some New York Jewish mother in our background) I tried to calmly explain to her that it would be alright. That it was just a little spot and that with a positive attitude it would all be ok. Needless to say I took the rest of the day off. Me and my brother went to see her. I bought dinner for everyone and took it over so she wouldn’t feel like she had to feed us. It’s deeply rooted inside all of us - when tragedy hits, feed them. Always medicate with food.

Thursday I got a call from my ex wife. She told me that my son had gotten into some kind of wrestling match with his friends and broke his new glasses. So there was another 82.92 for glasses. This was the 3rd time this year that he’s had new ones. I told him that he had to help me around the house this weekend to help pay them off. Needless to say, he cried about that. It must be hell to be 7 and asked to pick up sticks in the yard.

Friday came and I was really looking forward to getting off early and going to relax. After work I went to pick up my son who was staying till Monday night because of the holiday. We met my Mom and the rest of the gang for dinner that night. Everyone was focused on my son so that we could ignore the pink elephant in the room and not talk about Mom’s new cancer. My step-father just kept pushing his food around and looking down. It was a sign of what to expect the rest of the weekend. This was not looking good.

Saturday I thought I would go out and clean the yard up for the party that I had planned for Sunday. We have 4 acres of land that is landscaped. The previous owners were master gardeners and the place looks like it. I went out to the barn to get on the riding mower and found that it wouldn’t start. It’s only a year and half old. I tested the battery and its fine. So I called Sears and they can’t come out till the 30th of the month to fix it. So I push mowed the whole yard, trimmed and weeded everything. It took most of the day and I was beat afterwards.

Sunday dawned with new hope that was just begging to be smacked down. The bright spot of the day was over in a flash. I got a call from my soldier for the first time all week. I was so excited I went outside so that I could hear him better. (My son was playing his video games) I ran outside and sat on the porch so I could soak in every word. I didn’t want to miss anything. We talked about how he was doing and about me and mom. He talked to me for a while and before it had begun it was over. It was like really good sex. Bad sex never seems to end.

I had invited my Mom and her family over for dinner for the holiday and my step-fathers birthday. I spent the entire day getting ready for it. I started out making the biscuits for the berries and cream dessert I had planned. So of course I burned them black. When I went to make another batch I realized I had ran out of flour, so we got in the car and went to get some more. I was planning 2 whole chickens and about a dozen extra legs. I baked it all in this orange, ginger and soy sauce and they looked absolutely fabulous. I made Texas rice and beautiful organic salad and fresh dressing. When everyone got there it was pretty quiet. My mom comes over to me and makes me cook my step father a hot dog for dinner. (This deeply hurt my gay pride - a hot dog for dinner) It turns out that he won’t eat chicken when it’s still on the bone. I asked her if he really knew where it all came from. So there I was frying hot dogs 5 minutes before we were supposed to eat. I think that was where I knew that this party was spiraling out of control.

Now I have to say, that my Mom’s family have never been one to make great dinner parties. I love them dearly, but none of them are conversationalist. I have found that I have to invite at least 2 “talkers” to a party to get them out of their shell. This was a little like one of those plays where the actors speak very little and body actions and set design are what’s supposed to tell the story. Very avant-garde, but still kinda depressing. As we sat down I wished I would have had a drink right then. Everyone looked pale. People were pushing the food around their plates and not talking.

As dinner was winding down I started to make faces at my brother who was sitting looking at his plate. I got up and started to clear off the dirty dishes and bring in the dessert. Sugar always makes me happy, so I thought this would at least perk my attitude up. After that and it was just me and mom and brother sitting around the table I asked her why is it that every time we eat as a family we don't talk? She just started to cry and told me “I’ve failed again” (did I mention the Jewish thing?) I just sat there stunned and needless to say it never got better after that. Evidently that little comment made her cry the whole way home.

On Monday I was at my dads for a cookout. It was nice and everyone was loud and noisy. It’s so weird to think that my parents were married to each other sometimes. My dad is loud and outgoing and my Mom is quiet, shy and reserved. They seem to have such little in common. I felt like a third wheel the entire time. Most everyone there was with their spouse and they all kept talking about mine the entire time. It made me really miss him more. After the party I took my son home and that’s when Mom called me. She was crying again. Evidently that conversation we had a few days before about a positive attitude didn’t stick. She told me that she didn’t want to hurt anyone with false hope. She wanted to be a realist. What she forgot was that being a realist is taking your hope that you will be fine into your own hands. By being a “realist” she was condemning herself to a life of fear and depression. I told her lets say the doctors tell you that you have 12 months to live. You can take that 12 months and make it good for you and everyone else or they can be bad months while you are only focused on the end. By being positive she could actually improve her health and by doing that add time to what she has. (At this point we have every hope and belief that she will beat this. Again did I mention that Jewish Mother thing?) After that call she called me back and told me thanks for the talk and she feels like a burden was lifted off her shoulders.

I came home locked the door and took a sleeping pill to knock myself out. Thank God that week was over.

"I will sell this house today, I will sell this house today"

2008-05-20T15:02:00.000-07:00

I had a strange weekend at the farm. My planner was booked solid. My son came this weekend for a visit. We had a dinner party and I had 2 showings for the farm. On Friday I picked him up and we went and got pizza. While we were there I got a call from my realtor that there were two people that wanted to come see the place. One showing was scheduled for Saturday night and the other was Sunday morning; so the quiet weekend that I had planned with my son was shot.

On Saturday afternoon we went to Long John Silvers and he learned that he actually liked malt vinegar. (Only on his hushpuppies though) We had a nice time talking and went to the store to get some supplies for dinner on Sunday afternoon. I always learn something from him. I now know that he hates coconut. After the shopping and eating was done I dropped him off at Papaws and Mammaws house to spend the night. He was excited because the have a hot tub and he loves to swim in it.

The showing on Saturday night was a bust. I hate people that come to see an historic farm and have the personality of cardboard. The most excitement I could get out of her was “now does any of the furniture come with this? How about this piano?” (She was flatly turned down) My realtor and I were talking and everyone wants to know why we are selling the house. I finally told her to tell them that my “partner” (God I hate that word) was in the Army and that we needed to downsize. When she told them there was no reaction. I’m not sure what I expected. Some violent patriotic fervor? Maybe some “gee I’ll buy this house – that can be my part of the war effort.” Maybe, “honey get the flags out.”

Sunday morning came and the rain had stopped. There was probably the most beautiful morning I’ve seen in months. The sky was that brilliant blue and the birds were singing and there was clarity to the light that seems to happen once every 6 years. My next showing came and I decided that I was going to be a cheerleader for the house. I was sick of these people bringing me down with their lack of enthusiasm. I was here to inspire and energize not get shit on. My new prospect was so into it she spent 2 hours looking at everything going though everything. She was asking all the right questions, saying all the right things. They want to open a quilters retreat so this would be perfect. The guest cottage would be her new shop. I really have a good feeling about her. I would love for her to get the place. She really gets it.

We had dinner with my parents, my brother and his boyfriend, my 2 lesbians that live in the guest house now and my son. My 2 super model lesbians are beautiful. I love that they are not really into plaid and love to play dress up. One is beautiful in that tiny waist, large breast, pouty lips kind of way and the other is beautiful in the sexy boyish way. (My son thought she was a boy – he’s only 7) My dad loves the large breasted one the best. I told him that eating dinner with her was his father’s day present. (I have a sick sense of humor) My brother and his boyfriend hung out in the bathroom while everyone ate. I’m not sure why, but no one questioned where they were. He says that the boyfriend was sick. Anyway, dinner was nice and it was nice to actually have people to talk to. While I was cleaning it all up, my ex-wife called to let me know she fractured her ankle at Kohl’s. Evidently a 500lbs woman in a wheel chair ran over her and knocked her flat out. I felt that the Kohl’s part was pretty funny – she didn’t.

So my son was spending another night at my house. Now, I don’t mind this at all. I love him being there, but he lives over 2 hours away and had to be at school at 8am. This year he has a perfect attendance and only 5 days to go. I didn’t want to screw that up for him. I got up at 4:30 and got him up at 5:30. We were doing great on time; so much so that we stopped at McDonalds for breakfast. I had that new “southern chicken biscuit” it was damn good. I then drove an hour back to work and then worked 10 hours. Finally at about 9pm I made it home and passed out. I was so tired I forgot to put the dog up and set the alarm.

I never knew that at this point in my life that a simple weekend would be so hard. It’s at times like this that I really miss having my soldier around. Not just to help out, but to lean on when I need it. I’ve never had to rush so much to get so much done before. I understand why people fall in love and live together. It’s so that they don’t die early from exhaustion. I wonder if there are studies to back this up. If not, they should do some.

Whores, Bath Houses, Realtors and Conversation

2008-05-15T09:00:00.000-07:00

I feel like a pimp sometimes. Before my soldier left we decided to put the farm up for sale hoping for a quick sale and then we could move on once he got back to a simpler life. We knew that he could be deployed at anytime once he got back so we didn’t want the stress of the farm and keeping it running to be on me if he was going to be away for long periods of time.

Two weeks ago, I had a showing of the farm. When I saw this 80 year old woman get out of her car I was praying like that little girl in Forest Gump – “Please God don’t let that be that woman who wants to buy this. Please God let her be the realtor.” Well a funny thing happened. The realtor turned out to be this great guy who happened to be gay as well. (Big surprise there - a gay realtor.) Anyway, it turns out that he and his partner may be interested in buying the farm for themselves.

So I cleaned the farm up all day to get ready for the showing. I preened, cleaned and scrubbed that house till all I could smell was bleach and cleaner. It smelled for a time like a really used bath house freshly scrubbed. All bleach and no bugs. I felt like I was getting my “whore” ready for a big night. All she had to do was put out and make it good for them.

Last night I had a small cocktail party for them so he could show his boyfriend the house. He loved it and I think everything went well. They were such a cute couple. My realtor man was in his 40’s and his boyfriend is in his 50’s and were engaging, sweet and didn’t have the prerequisite “gay drama” and pretention that follows most. We bonded I think and hope to hear from them again. I think me and my soldier could become good friends with them.

Speaking of my soldier – I got another letter from him. They are always so short. I wish he had sometime to really talk again. I think I miss that more than the sex at this point. It’s funny, but I know somewhat how refugees feel when they loose everything and food becomes dearer to them than anything else. They don’t want sex either. I think talking is a primal instinct and when we do less of it, it affects everything else. That’s why I think I had such a good time last night. It had been so long since I’ve had meaningful conversation. (And no my parents don’t count.)

I just hate being this emotional about someone. It goes against who I am as a person, or who I thought I was. Now I hear about Memorial Day activities and I start to tear up. If I see a soldier or see a commercial there it goes again. I know it sounds sappy but I just miss him so much it actually hurts. Does that feeling ever go away?

The Postman Always Rings at Least 4 Times

2008-05-10T20:13:00.001-07:00

Well I finally did it. I have been religiously carrying around my cell phone for the past 12 days. I sleep with it, eat with it, I even make sure that its there in the shower with me. The reason I am so suddenly attached to my cell is that I never know when he was going to call.

I was cleaning out my barns today on the farm so I could see what to sell and while the mower was running he called me. I missed it. I heard the phone beep after I shut it off and had 3 missed calls that just happened. (I was only on the mower for about 5 minutes) I sat there in the middle of my barn crying. I was sitting there staring at my phone praying that he would call me back just one more time.

RING, RING . . . . I couldn’t believe it. He was calling me back for a 4th time. When I answered he said he had only about 1 minute to talk since I had missed his call earlier. My heart sank, but I tried to keep a happy tone. All he could say was that he missed me and that he wasn’t all that happy there. It’s funny how his tone has changed since the last time we talked.

I have all these list. Lists for work, lists for this and lists for that. I even keep a list about all the stuff that I want to tell him about when he calls so that I can remember all the inane things that happen I want to tell him. When he calls my list just vaporizes. I’m left feeling slow, dumb and little tipsy. Everything seems to go really fast and nothing makes any sense. Spinning is the only word for it. All I care about is how he’s doing. You know, that mothering thing . . . are they feeding you well? Are you sick at all? Have you gotten into any trouble? Are they hurting you at all? All he wants to know about is how I’m doing and how the farm is and how the business is doing. At that moment I could care less about all that. So we really don’t get to talk about much of anything but – I miss you, I love you and how’s the cat doing. I get so mad at myself for not making better use of the time, but it’s the best I can do right now.

I know I won’t miss another call. I want more time to talk.

Mother’s day is tomorrow and I now know exactly how they feel. You know that mom that sends her son off to college and then sees some commercial on TV showing a man about his age doing something that reminds her of him. We all know what’s going to happen next. She’s going to start crying, mascaras running and then everything starts running so no one can enjoy themselves. I do that now. Every time I see that Army commercial on TV or pass a recruiting station I cry a little and then yell at myself to get it together.

I know at least one recruiter was ready to have me committed when I stopped in to pick up one of the “a soldier lives here” signs for the yard. I walked in and asked for the sign. Then as I was getting ready to leave I just started crying because they didn’t have any yard stakes, just the signs. I’m not sure if it was a look of pity or shame that was on his face after that. I was just glad to be out of there. I know it sounds like I’m a mess, but I think I really am holding it together for the most part. (Self awareness is probably not my best trait right now.)

Money is tight right now and this 4.00 a gallon gas is really hurting. We were hoping to have a lot in savings by the time that he got back, but business has been really bad since he left and it all has to do with this economy. I called the cable company and turned it off. I’ve cut out everything that’s extra now and I make sure all the lights are off all the time. I feel like I should be carrying around a candle in the house to see. I’m not going to have the pool opened up the year either. It’s just too expensive to up keep. On the bright side I did get all the taxes paid for him. That was around 2K so now I don’t have to worry about that.

I mailed my first letter the other day. We couldn’t mail anything till he was assigned to his training unit. It was a rather large one because I had been writing him and taking pictures to send and collecting them all till I could send them. I really hope he gets it soon.

A Queer Thing Happened On The Way To The Recruiter

2008-05-08T13:34:00.000-07:00

My partner, my husband of 7 years came home last fall and said off handily that he wanted to join the Army. I didn't believe him. I thought he was joking and that this was some sort of midlife crisis. (he's 37 now) As we got through the holidays the dropping of hints and casually bringing it up increased. One day he just said - "I've decided I'm joining" This news about sent me over the edge of sanity.

Here was this man that I have loved telling me that he wanted to leave me for extended periods of time and I was supposed to be ok with that. (the nerve of it) I felt rage, anger, loss and abandonment. At times I felt like I was in a Lifetime movie - maybe I did something, maybe I wasn't attractive enough anymore. (damn, why couldn't I be Meredith Baxter Burney) all I knew was he was leaving and I couldn't stop it.

One day we were driving and there in a yard of a small farm house was this "A Soldier Lives Here" sign that the Army issues. It had a profound effect on me. I realized that I was proud of this man. There it was sitting all alone in this yard and some spouse, mother, father or gay person was sitting in the house worrying about the same things I was.

After we knew the date my soldier was leaving for basic training the days slipped by faster and faster. There was so many things that I didn't get done that I wanted to. I started to become a little obsessive compulsive. I wasn't sure what he would remember when he was gone and I wanted him to think that I would be fine and be able to handle the home, farm, gardens, our vintage shop we run, the web development company, my son and everything else that needs to be done just to survive. Nothing was clean enough, nothing was ever done enough - I had to prove that I could take care of it all and keep the home fires burning. I had to, there wasn't any other choice.

The last week he was here was gone before it started. We had to get a power of attorney signed and notarized so that I could make decisions for him about everything from the cats to the businesses while he was gone. We had to stop at the accountants to get his taxes done. The Army sent us a list of all his supplies that he needed to bring, some of which baffled me - the Army wanted him to have a "clear soap box" I guess this is to prevent you from hiding some contraband Mary Jane. The only thing I requested back was his brand spanking new jock that they wanted him to have. (I wanted to see this on him when he came back all buff and hot. The new body he was going to get wasn't lost on me. At least there was one perk for me.)

He was scheduled to leave on Tuesday April 29th so I wanted to make sure that he said goodbye to everyone and let them have the same chance. That weekend I had the family over on Friday night and Saturday morning. Then on Saturday night we gave a dinner party for all of our friends. I don't think I will ever forget how he looked that night. It wasn't anything special he was wearing, just I felt that this is a moment that I really should remember. As I was sitting at the end of the table I found myself just sitting there staring at him. I'm pretty sure it was creeping him out some or at least he thought I was weird.

That Sunday night we made love for the last time before he left. I think it was an almost holy experience for me. In the back of my head I knew this was it. I just kept holding on tight not wanting to ever let go. I kept feeling his face and kissing it all over to memorize what it felt like. I didn't want to forget anything. Next thing I knew it was morning and I had to go on with my life.

On Monday the 28th we found out that he actually needed to report that night to the Holiday Inn the Army uses to house new recruits. So there would be no other nights together for a very long time. I had to drop him off at the recruiter station so they could take him there. We pulled into an abandoned Hollywood Video parking lot so that we could kiss and say our good bye. My voice was in the throat and most of it was a blur all I knew was that I didn't want it to end. I was kicking and screaming on the inside while on the outside I was becoming the duty bound military "wife." Life would never be the same for me or our family.

I am writing this blog while he is in South Carolina's Fort Jackson for basic training and then his military schooling. He will be gone till around September 15th. This will not only document my new life as an "Army wife"it will be a "lifeline" to my soldier while he is gone to let him know how I am feeling and my thoughts about him.

I also hope to hear from other gay and lesbian spouses that are in the same predicament that I am in. This is a forum to let your Soldier, Marine or Sailor know how you are doing and how proud you are of them.