I like not fitting in

For somebody that belongs….or says they belong, to the gay/queer community, I will never fit into that world..

I’m so sick of trying to meet men to connect with. It’s really just an entire waste of energy. They’re either an ocean away, taken, not into anything serious, not monogamous; the list is never ending.

I get so sick of the only guys that seem to be interested are old enough to be my grandfather, straight men who want a quickie while the wife and kids are away..guys with no job and no car. Is there ever going to be somebody for me?

This is probably the part where some dumbass conservative family member would chime in with something like “well this is just the Lord telling you to be straight”….bitch please. If I can’t get a man, I’m not going to get a woman either. And I don’t want to. At this point, why should I give a fuck about wanting anyone? People in my life for the most part have become a waste of time. I have friends, I have acquaintances…blah blah…

I’m losing more and more faith with (gay) people the more time goes on..

Unpopular opinion: gay men are trash.

Peace, babe. Xoxo

Son of a Beach..

Hey fam. By the time you read this, I’ll be on my way back home to TN. Blogging safely from the back seat, of course..

My family and I have just come off a two week beach trip, and honestly, I am so ready to be back home.

The first week went fairly well, just me and the folks. Even despite Covid and having to wear a mask inside everywhere, I enjoyed myself. Went to the ocean, fresh seafood cuisine, and even visited the local yarn shop – wish I absolutely LOVE.

And then for week two, my brother and his wife joined us..

Don’t get me wrong, I love my family. Most of the time. But you can love somebody and still have them stomp on your last nerve sometimes. Or all the time.

My brother and sister-in-law come across as a very high strung couple. They like things a certain way, can very particular, and are often very opinionated. You know the type. “We can talk all the shit we want, but you’re not allowed to express yourself to us.”

It’s very safe (and polite) to say that I made the most of it. And so did my parents. A (normal) person can only take so much. Hopefully the next time we take a vacation, they won’t join us. I know that may come across as super bitchy, but I am honestly just over it at this point. All of it. Squared..

On the road home, listening to podcasts. Might even get some knitting done. Or take a nap..

Until next time..

Hey Frands

Okay guys…in short term, I don’t really think it’s hard for me to make friends. You can blame that on either a so-called outgoing personality I was born with, or just my possible narcissism. The really hard part for me is making friends and keeping them long term. Because I’ll be the first to admit that a lot of the time, I can be hard to fully get along with.

Not long ago, I had probably the best (male) friend I’ve ever had. Like me, he’s gay, and also for the most part misunderstood by his family. We both crochet, and hit it off almost immediately (as friends only). His constant positive outlook on life was great to balance out my seemingly never ending cycle of negativity. We laughed together, made bad jokes, traded patterns….and at one point, thought of each other as a missing brother. He truly understood me like nobody else did, and I honestly can say he may have been the best friend I’ve ever had. And then. In one conversation. I fucked it all up.

My best friend was married. Is married. I was even good friends with his husband, who is also an amazing guy in his own right. I’m really glad my friend has him because there are times I wonder if he could have gotten along without him haha. But joking aside…

Because of this strong friendship, I made the mistake of telling my friend I had feelings for him. Yeah, those feelings. Obviously something you don’t tell a married person. Big fuck up. But I’m the kind of person it takes a hot minute to figure out my emotions. And I realized it wasn’t romantic love. Because I had never once thought of us being together like that. I still don’t, and never will..

The feelings I had (and still have), come from a place of having a friendship so strong, like I have NEVER had before. I’ve never had a friend that I had so much in common with, who truly seemed to fully understand me, but at the same time, is so much different from me.

Before I could let him know this, I lost contact with him. I won’t go into the details of that, because it really isn’t important. Just know that I can’t text or call him anymore. And that is what hurts me about this the most. I never got to tell him face to face I’m sorry, or get to explain myself and talk it out. It hurts more than my worst (and only) breakup.

In the aftermath of it all, I have been depressed, ashamed of myself…..I’ve even prayed, you guys….anxiety on full alert. My stomach has been in more knots than any cheap shit yarn you could buy from the bargain bin at Hobby Lobby. And for you non-crafty peeps, girrrrl that’s BAD…

If he ever reads this, I hope he can forgive me. Because we all need one amazing frand.

Anyways, it’s pizza time. Peace, bitches.

More about me..

Well I’m a knitter. And I crochet. I actually started with crochet long before I began to knit. 15 years crochet and 8 years knitting if you want to be exact.

I love to read. I try to read as much as I can when my time isn’t consumed by yarn. My favorites are books filled with historical fiction, dystopian worlds, and horror monsters. I have a huge obsession with werewolves. Because I’m hairy? Maybe.

I’m a simple guy. Very much a homebody. Mention Netflix and a cup of coffee and I’m there. As long as I can bring my knitting, crochet…something to keep my hands busy.

I love coffee. All coffee. Almost all coffee. Bring me coffee!

As the title says, I am queer. I used to say I’m gay, but honestly I think queer applies to me better. There’s no big meaningful story behind it. I just like it. Thanks for not making me explain.

I am considered disabled. I was born with a more serious case of scoliosis. I have two metal rods fused to my spine. (There’s a third rod, but I’ll let you guess where that one is). I’ve had multiple surgeries and had my second (or third?) spinal fusion by the time I was 5 years old. I’m a fighter.

I’m a hairy guy. I have a scruffy beard. I have hobbit feet. Other than my face, I have never shaved or trimmed anything. Still enjoying this blunt honesty?

So yeah that about sums it up. That’s me. Take it or leave it. Love ya. (Not really. Not even a little bit.)

Blah, Blah, Blah..

Hey. I’m Caleb. And this shit is about me. This isn’t a happy blog about gay pride. It isn’t about an amazing journey I’m going on to find myself. Or about coming out and finding acceptance in friends and family. No; it’s none of those things.

This is about being a person of disability in the queer community. How being that kind of person apparently makes you an undesired pariah. About how dating is basically nonexistent and you’re more likely to find a unicorn out on Main Street in broad daylight during rush hour shooting rainbows and glitter out of its ass. Or about how everyone is too busy trying to find themselves instead of having life goals or ambition anymore. Somebody like me is usually only desired for quick hookups on the side by those who have wives and kids at home, or the ones who are old enough to be Father Time or Santa Claus. Actually, Santa wouldn’t be so bad. He probably smells like cookies….but anyway, I am the one usually chosen out of desperation..

Mostly this is about my life, and how I see the world. Buckle up, bitches. It’s going to be a bumpy ride. And the faggotry just got real.

Signed,

An angry bitter queer..

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