Month: April 2016

As a teen I worked in the truck stop of my little shithole town. It was the only restaurant for miles and had a decent reputation, although I never understood why. People would come from all over Ohio just to eat there. In the mornings, truckers and farmers would sit at the bar drinking endless cups of coffee talking shit. On Friday and Saturday nights, the Coach room was open. It had a generous buffet and it also featured seafood, frozen naturally, and freshly carved meat. I worked the buffet nearly every weekend in some capacity. Most of the time I helped prepare food and take it out to the buffet. Sometimes I carved the roasts and Prime Rib. Other times I was a busboy. It depended on what they needed me to do. I basically worked every job in the place except cashier.

Some weekend nights, there would be a kind of static in the air that I never completely understood until recently. Two middle-aged gentlemen would come in to eat. I didn’t think anything of it. They were just customers. I was in the waitress station one Friday when I heard them talking about the table. The waitresses drew straws to see who would have the unfortunate pleasure of waiting on them. I found that very strange as well. They’re just customers like the rest of them. What makes them so special.

I watched how the waitress treated them. She was overly kind to the point that it was grotesque. I still didn’t understand. She even messed up their drink order on purpose (decaf instead of regular). I asked her why and she just said that she couldn’t stand the two of them. None of the waitresses would say anything either as to why the two gentlemen were social pariahs. They even tipped very well, regardless of the service.

A couple of weeks later, they came back for the Prime Rib buffet. Same scenario with the electric attitude that I still didn’t understand. This time, though, no one was drawing straws, nor were they going to their table. I asked the manager what was wrong and what was going on. She simply said:

“Well, you see Michael. That’s Uncle Chuck and Auntie Fran. They’re a little light in the loafers.”

I looked at her and said, “That’s the dumbest fucking thing I think I’ve ever heard.” (A little loudly) Then I went to the waitress station, grabbed a tray and a couple of glasses of water. I approached their table, introduced myself and took their drink orders. Since they wanted the buffet, all they had to do was go get their food. Like with any other customer, I simply made sure they had what they wanted or needed. I also gave them the respect as human beings that they deserved. They were extremely happy with their experience and I was extremely happy with the $50 tip which was fantastic in 1986. The other girls bitched because I didn’t put the money in the pool, but I kept it anyway. I told them that I served the couple because they refused to, so it’s my money. Fuck them!

I looked at my manager and the restaurant owner’s son before closing and asked why they allowed the girls to do something like that. It wasn’t right. They’re two people coming into your restaurant to eat. They’re spending their money to line your pockets.

“It just ain’t right. It’s not natural. They give us the creeps.” They said.

“But you’ll still take their money, won’t you?! You saw two fags sitting at a table that have been here numerous times, despite your best efforts to dissuade them from coming. They always seem to leave full and happy regardless of how the ‘losing’ waitress treats them. They leave a tip for her and they pay you way too much money for an overpriced buffet. I see two people sitting at a table who want to come and enjoy a meal in each other’s company.” I said.

These were the very first gay men I’d ever met. I thought I was the only one until I left that little POS hellhole.

 

I had my weekly meeting with Dr. Dragonfly yesterday. We talked about Bluestone and how hard it was to write and how it felt to write it. I’m not going to go into all of the details. We also talked about my mother. I think I commented earlier that she had really pissed me off twice a few days ago. Rather than politely disagreeing with a statement, she chose to call it (and me) flat out wrong. That didn’t make me very happy at all. What’s worse, is about 15 minutes later, she initiated an IM session with me and didn’t even bring the whole thing up. We did the usual chit chat and all of a sudden, Damien needed something and she had to go. I am the least important as always.

I can’t continue to seek this relationship. It’s a relationship she’s not capable of feeling or giving, I suppose. I always used to think that parents’ love was unconditional, but I learned at a very young age that with my father that wasn’t true and much later that it wasn’t true with my mother either. I’m still quite sure she still prays that someday I’ll find my way back to ‘god,’ believe again and become straight. It doesn’t work that way. I wasn’t what she ultimately wanted me to be. I’m not even sure what she wanted me to be. After Spain, she never really engaged in my life anymore. She always hid it under the guise of ‘I didn’t want to interrupt you,’ but it was really, ‘I don’t really want to know.’

I have no further reason to return to Ohio.

But now, I sit here on an overcast Tuesday morning with a shitload of pent-up aggression and energy and I have no idea what to do with it. It either has to come out or the narcolepsy has to kick in, one of the two. I’m wound up and will blow at any second unless I can find a way to get rid of this. Maybe I just need more sleep. I don’t know anymore.

I’m tired.

So.here I sit, yet again pissed off at my mother. I really have to stop wanting this relationship that just isn’t ever going to happen. Today was about a pro-life graphic she posted. She never posts shit like that. Of course, my cousin Theresa had to jump on board with the ‘child didn’t choose to be conceived’ thing. Now, had it been anyone else, I may have taken that argument into account, just a little, but she has absolutely no business towing that party line. She had quite the reputation in high school and one of my closest friends lost his virginity to her.

I couldn’t let the stupid thing go, mostly because I hate ignorance. I changed the term to pro-choice and simply stated that I’m pro-choice because I don’t believe I have the right to tell anyone else what to do with their body, or anything therein. I also clarified my definition of human life as ‘viable outside the womb, not at conception.’ The argument was sound and logical. The opinion was backed up by fact (evolution and natural selection).

My Mother’s response was swift and concise. “You are wrong. The child didn’t have a choice.” It’s not a child. It’s a fucking zygote, a collection of cells. I simply told her that it was fine. I could  be wrong. It’s just how I saw things and I thought that was the end of it. I was annoyed by that point because my mother is normally more articulate than that, but she is given over to blind faith and she has the worst vice of all of them, no vices at all. She clearly conveyed to me that once again, her religion takes precedence over everything. She stayed online and stayed online and stayed online. I wasn’t about to engage her.

I was doing stuff for my headache support board. Suddenly, ‘ding,’ a message from my mother asking if everything was ok. I had my normal headache, so I told her that it was great, 71 degrees, the windows were open and the cats were surveying their kingdom. It could’nt be better. (Dilaudid would’ve made it a little better.) Chit chat, allergies, wind, rain, too much mold, etc. Oh-Brooke played a great April Fool’s joke on your brother…A little more chit chat and all of a sudden, “Well, I have to go. Damien just called and we have to take him for a job interview.” As usual, dismissed as the least important thing. Everything else comes before me. I just end up in a bad mood.

It really has to stop. I’ve done it before. I have to completely limit contact. I know that’s withdrawal, but confrontation with her isn’t possible either. She shuts down and changes the subject at the very hint of a serious discussion about something. I guess I’ll just have to be <afk> more often.

As a very curious side note, my mother-in-law called me while I was in Target today. I was still feeling pretty angry at my mom. We had the most wonderful conversation about everything and nothing just like we always do when she calls. It’s very sad that a call from my mother in law makes me happy and call, posts or IM from my own mother depresses the fuck out of me.