Posted in Uncategorized on January 10, 2009 by dwynstew
DISCLAIMER: This is a TRUE story. The names have not been changed.
Gotta get down the details before I forget….
Was there three?
No four.
Hoodies.
They were wearing hoodies.
One with red print.
I remember the red print.
Their faces.
What did their faces look like?
Kids.
Wait, they were kids.
No, older then Josiah.
You were dropping off your cousin Cristyn.
They’ll want to known that.
Stop, what happened first?
You gotta get it together.
What happened first?
My lip hurts.
Bleeding.
Why is it bleeding?
They hit me.
Twice.
The first one.
Then the second.
The first didn’t hurt as much.
The second sent me to the ground.
Third and fourth disappeared with my phone.
Think.
Go back to the beginning.
Why did I roll down my window?
They were just kids.
Just kids wanting to know the time.
Shouldn’t have rolled down the window.
Shouldn’t have talked to them.
Shouldn’t have…
Shouldn’t have…
Just start at the beginning…
–
“I’ll see you in February,” I said.
“Alright, Dwayne. I love you ‘little brother’ (her nickname for me thou I’m older and biologically her cousin).” Cristyn said as she closed the door.
I slowly pull out of the small parking lot and watch as she walks to toward the door. As she disappears into the house I notice four teenagers in black hoodies, one with red dragon print, motion toward my car. Without thinking, I crack the window.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Hey man, do you know what time it is?” said the shorter one with the dragon sweater. He does most of the talking.
“Yeah, it’s 1:34.”
“Can we use your phone so my boy can call his mother?” He motions to the slightly taller rougher looking compadre next to him.
“No, my phone is about die,” I said stuttering slightly. Dragon sweater smiles wickedly sensing the fear behind my eyes.
“Your phone is dead?” He said laughing.
“Yeah, It’s dying the battery light is flashing and I’ve got to go.”
“Let me see, you’re lying.” The others are laughing now.
“I bet you he can make the phone call before it dies.” Another one said immediately following.
He come closer to the car I flinch, forgetting my window is still cracked. He reaches his tiny hand into the car and grabs the phone out of my hand.
“Come one dude, give me my phone back.”
The others, seeming to take care in my plight join in.
“Come on man give him is phone back,” the new talker flashes me a smile that lingers against his darker skin. Dragon sweater is already on the other side of the apartment complex. Being followed by the guy originally in need of the phone.
“We’ll get your phone back for you. Come on around I’ll show you were he lives.”
I turn left into an alley way and follow the two who are left. All the while believing they’re just teenagers having a little fun with the soft-spoken suburbanite, because they’ve had a little too much to drink, or are possibly just high.
They stop near a row of apartments. “He’s in apartment ‘I’”
“1745 I?” I replied.
“Yeah,” he said. “Are you gay?”
“What!? Why? Is that a problem?”
“No, you just sound gay.”
“Whatever, I just want my phone.”
The dragon sweater returned
“Give this man back his phone so he can leave and be one his way.”
“Where’s my phone?” I say a little more forcefully.
“My brother’s got it. He’s charging it.”
“Yeah man his mother’s house it right over there go ahead and knock on the door and she’ll make him give it to.”
“I’m not getting out of my car.”
“Why’d y’all tell him where I lived!?”
“If I don’t get my phone back now I’m going to my cousin’s house and calling the police.”
They started laughing so I drive off. As I was leaving I heard one of them say. “See man, now you’re making me mad. Just go inside and talk to his mother.”
I drove around the corner and parked back at Cristyns’ mom’s house. Two of the guys were waiting by an old black truck next to my car. One threw a snowball at my car. The other opened the car door to the truck and threw something else. They paused. I cracked a different window.
“Are you ready to give me back my phone?” I asked annoyed.
“Yeah, man we’ll give you your phone.”
I got out of the car and noticed a piece of a ladder on top of my car.
“Where’s my phone?”
“My dude’s still got it.”
“I’m calling the police.”
I headed towards Cristyn’s. They began to follow me. One’s on either side. I noticed the one on my left had a large pair of pliers in his hand. It’s then I realize these weren’t “just kids.” I panicked and ended up passing Cristyn’s door.
“Do you know where you are?” The one on my left said menacingly
“Yeah, I’m at my cousins house,” I said without knowing what he meant.
“You’re in Linkin’ Park bitch.”
He punched me. A bit in shock, I realized it didn’t really hurt. Maybe these are just kids, I thought. I changed directions and made a beeline for Cristyn’s door. The other one catches up and punches me 10 times harder in the jaw. I buckle and fall to my knees.
TO BE CONTINUED…
(Sorry guys I’m falling asleep, lol. Also, sorry about the many grammar errors. Wanted to get most of this up before I forget the details.)
Posted in Uncategorized on December 29, 2008 by dwynstew
My very first bottle of Grey Goose. Ain’t she precious! lol
Question of the Day: Is it okay to have sex at a friend’s house? Or more importantly in their bed?
Observation of the Day: Why the hell was I the only one who didn’t get laid at my own party Saturday night!?
DISCLAIMER: If you haven’t figured it out by now this post is going be a bit on the raunchy side, so bail now if your “uncomfortability meter” is starting to spike upward.
I know I promised a blog post chronicling my online adversity conquering triumph that is Metromix.com, but more pressing matters are at hand. Well, sort of.
This past weekend, as many of you know, I threw an after-Christmas shindig for some of my friends and family. However it is my foggy memories of the “after-party” that are giving me pause. Eight people (who shall remain nameless) decided, at some point during the party (which actually lasted til six in the morning) that they needed some sexual healing.
I’ve started to become more known for the “out-of-control factor” at my parties then anything else these days, and I’m not too sure how I feel about that just yet. I do know that my house is becoming more like a brothel with each passing soirée. A place where caution is thrown to the wind, where fantasies come to life and where the meek do indeed inherit the earth.
My own Moulin Rouge so to speak.
I guess that would make me Harold Zidler, which is actually pretty accurate, as, like myself, Monsieur Zidler is an overweight, control freak with self esteem and submission issues, who is never seen partaking in a love affair as they play out in droves all around him.
(Yes, this analogy may be on the side of overly theatric, but, really, would you expect anything less?)
Like I said I’m not sure how I feel about all this. Though, I do think that straight sex is gross (it so is, don’t kid yourself), I am a very sexual being and would never want to get in the way of anyone else’s sexual fulfillment. So if a couple of tipsy bedfellows discretely sneak away to my bathroom or bedroom to fulfill a desire during a crowded affair it shouldn’t be a big deal, right?
However, like I said, straight sex is gross, and it seems a bit rude for you to be sweating and gyrating about on someone else’s property. But then there’s also the fact that I myself have partaken in such behavior, so creating a “No Sex in the Dante Room” rule of thumb may be a bit on the hypocritical side.
So you tell me. Is sex at a friend’s house a no, no? Or simply excusable?
Posted in Uncategorized on November 12, 2008 by dwynstew
I’m officially a VJ (visual journalist). Five years ago (hell, one year ago) whodda thunk I’d be using html, taking pictures, creating photo galleries, managing and editing a Web site? Definitely not I!
Metromix Columbus is an entertainment news Web site geared toward 21- to 34-year olds, without kids. And I’m the Associate Producer! (Plese lift the dropped jaw, lol). Please go to my new Web site at the link below and let me know what you think!
Posted in Uncategorized on October 27, 2008 by dwynstew
Because I’ve been insanely busy, and a bit lazy, this one’s gonna be a two-parter. So, if you’re also too busy, pick your poison: boys or politics? The latter is the focus of the rambling below.
American’s are stupid. It’s pretty simple actually. It begins with the old adage “a person is smart, people are stupid.” As evidenced by the video above. (Let’s not forget the responsible, well-informed voters featured in the clip are Ohioans. Still wonder why I’m on the fast track out of this godforsaken state?)
Over the past few months I’ve heard people on both sides of the aisle saying some of the most ignorant things for the reason they’re voting for Arizona Senator John McCain or Illinois Senator Barack Obama. Some of them being my own family and friends. As a journalist I felt the record needed to be set straight on some things. So here it goes…
Idiots Against Obama
This should be the bumper sticker for about 70 percent of McCain’s supporters. I’ve been approached by many of them claiming, “One of the reasons I’m voting for McCain is because Obama doesn’t put his hand over his heart during the Pledge of Allegiance.” And also, “I’m not voting for him because he’s a Muslim.” And yet another, “I’m not voting for Obama because he’s for abortion.”
First of all, I can’t believe people still believe this ridiculousness about his hand over his heart and him being a Muslim after it was disputed by the main stream media (including Fox News) nearly a year ago, as evidenced by this article.
Also this talk about abortion is out of control. I’d like to begin this argument by saying, who cares!? We are in the midst of the deepest financial recession since the great depression and are involved in two wars, about to be three. Whether some 16-year-old whore is saving herself from a life of misery shouldn’t be our main concern.
Now many of you would think I’m being harsh. And maybe I am. So, I’ll put it this way. Whether you’re pro life or pro choice one thing is clear. Teenagers and people who have no means with which to raise their offspring should not be having children. It’s that simple.
Roe v. Wade (the famous court case which legalized abortion in 1973) was initially instituted mainly because of teenage mothers who were using coat hangers to perform self abortions or simply leaving their newborns in trashcans. There was also the rise of “underground abortion clinics” where unqualified individuals would perform abortions for a quick buck, ultimately resulting in the patients being mutilated beyond repair. The common saying was, we might as well make it legal so women would go to professionals and decrease the tragedies from cases where women disposed of the fetus at any cost.
If Roe v. Wade is reversed this underground abortion society is sure to crop back up, but no one seems to be worried about that angle of the story. Also, teen pregnancy is on the rise. Females are becoming pregnant at much younger ages. Kids are horny. They’re going to have sex. It’s that simple. Programs like Planned Parenthood and Safe Sex Education (as opposed to its ridiculously naive counterpart, Abstinence Only Sex Education) are keeping pregnant teens in school so they can still achieve their education and provide a better life for their child. If you believe that passing condoms out to 14-year-olds is somehow indecent then you need to adjust your mindset from 1948 to 2008, because sex is rampant is American junior high schools and the only way to stop it is safe sex. They’re doing it, whether you want to believe it or not.
Okay I know abortion is a bit of a tangent, but I had to get that off my chest. Now on to this whole William Ayers insanity. (Don’t worry I’ll get to McCain. Sad thing is, I actually like the dude, but we’ll get to that later.)
For those unawares, William Ayers, now a 63-year-old college professor, was apart of radical anti-war group called Weather Underground that bombed public buildings in the 1960s and 1970s (when Obama was around eight years old by the way).
McCain’s running mate, Sarah Palin (oh, don’t worry, we’ll so come to her later) said in one of her speeches that Barack Obama “pals around with terrorists” because he and Ayes served on a school board sponsored committee and Ayes hosted a fundraiser for the senator. It became a huge controversy and has been the main issue the McCain camp has been using as an attack on Obama. The main stream media once again has proven this inaccurate, as evidenced by this article.
My take on the whole thing: Obama is ahead in the polls and McCain is getting desperate. End of story.
McCain Misnomers
Moving on to McCain.
It may shock many of you, but I used to be a supporter of John McCain. It wasn’t during this election, but it was back during the late ‘90s (yes I was a dorky kid who liked politics) when Clinton was in office. McCain wasn’t vey popular amongst his own party, he was very good friends of Bill and Hillary, and was known for stepping out of party lines and going with what he thought was right on many major Senate decisions. It was because of him that many of Clinton’s policies made it through a, at the time, Republican-run Congress.
Many of you may not know this, but in 2000 McCain ran against President Bush in the primaries for the Republican nomination. He surrounded himself with a staff that was full of democrats, republicans and independents and planned, as he says now, “to bring truth and change to Washington.”
However, during the campaign Bush’s camp went on the attack leaking rumors that the black child he and his wife had adopted was from an affair and that his wife, Cindy, was strung out on drugs. Subsequently McCain lost his bid to run in the election. This is also the basis for the Bush/McCain “strained” relationship that you hear so much about in the press.
In 2004, McCain was even thinking about switching over to the Democratic Party, even talking with Ted Kennedy, at one point about officially making the conversion of his senate seat. He backed out at the last minute and joined forces to help get Bush reelected, ultimately seeing the potential for his present run at the White House.
Okay, I say all that to say this. McCain sold out. He did an about face and completely aligned himself with a party who pretty much hated him eight years ago. But in a sense he had to, or he wouldn’t be running for president today.
On to McCain’s age, which has been a major factor for those aligning themselves with Obama. And subsequently has been the butt of every Late Night Talk Show hosts’ jokes.
For the record he just turned 72 in August, and according to his doctors he has a “clean bill of health.” And though he graduated at the bottom of his class during his military training and doesn’t have a college degree (Obama has a degree from Harvard), McCain has a very brilliant political mind. I will give him that. But, seeing that McCain has made it his goal to hammer home Obama’s William Ayers association I have to bring up The Keating Five scandal he was involved in, which I’m surprised Obama hasn’t used as his offensive during the Ayers attacks.
Again a little background, The Keating Five was a group of five senators that were accused of some major political corruption in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s. Basically these five men (of which McCain was apart) was accused of intervening on behalf of a famous banker by the name of Charles Keating. He was involved in some pretty insane money laundering scheme and he allegedly paid off these five senators to get him out of it. Three of the senators dropped out of politics after their terms finished because of it. McCain was cleared legally of all chargers but was still reprimanded by the government.
Vamping For A VP
Both of the candidates’ choices for running mates were complete and total political publicity stunts. There I said it. I must say, however, that McCain’s choice was a bit more so then Obama’s, here’s why.
Obama’s running mate, Delaware Senator Joe Biden, in my opinion, was chosen because Obama was getting roasted in the press for being too young and having little political experience. So he chose someone who was old and had lots of experience. Biden appeals to the white, working class demographic that Obama has been having trouble reeling in. However, despite these politicking sins, Obama picked someone who could help him make political decisions where his experience lacks. He killed two birds with one stone so to speak, he made a choice that worked for the public and for himself.
McCain completely gave in to a rash impulse decision simply to gain Hilary’s voters with his VP pick. I’ve been having trouble finding the right words for what she does to America, so I’m calling in the assistance of this article from Rolling Stone by the prolific Matt Taibbi. He says:
“…Here’s the thing about Americans. You can send their kids off by the thousands to get their balls blown off in foreign lands for no reason at all, saddle them with billions in debt year after congressional year while they spend their winters cheerfully watching game shows and football, pull the rug out from under their mortgages, and leave them living off their credit cards and their Wal-Mart salaries while you move their jobs to China and Bangalore.
And none of it matters, so long as you remember a few months before Election Day to offer them a two-bit caricature culled from some cutting-room-floor episode of Roseanne as part of your presidential ticket. And if she’s a good enough likeness of a loudmouthed Middle American archetype, as Sarah Palin is, John Q. Public will drop his giant-size bag of Doritos in gratitude, wipe the Sizzlin’ Picante dust from his lips and rush to the booth to vote for her. Not because it makes sense, or because it has a chance of improving his life or anyone else’s, but simply because it appeals to the low-humming narcissism that substitutes for his personality, because the image on TV reminds him of the mean, brainless slob he sees in the mirror every morning.
Sarah Palin is a symbol of everything that is wrong with the modern United States…”
That pretty much says it all. (You must check out the rest of the article. Taibbi is simply brilliant.)
The main argument of Palin supporters is that she’s a regular hockey mom from a small town, she’s a good ol’ regular American, she’s one of “us.” I don’t mean to a traitor to my fellow “regular folks” out there, but I don’t want a “regular American” running the country. Like I said at the start of this post, Americans are stupid. They’re the “mob,” they follow any fad you throw at them. I love my mother and all, but I don’t want her running the country.
Palin is a joke and the fact that someone as smart as McCain actually agreed to add her to the ticket was the final straw when it comes to my respect for him.
The Bottom Line
I know this blog has been long and boring but the point was not to endorse one candidate over another. Anyone who’s ever spoken to me knows that’s I’m voting for Obama. That’s not the issue. The issue is that you must have valid and factual reasons for why you’re backing said candidate. Vote for McCain, vote for Ralph Nader even, just please, please, please know why and what you are voting for. Especially my fellow black brothers and sisters. Too many people died so you could have the right to vote. Please use this right wisely.
To reinforce my support of voting in general. Check out the below video:
Why am I voting for Obama you may ask?
In the simplest of terms the Republican Party has systematically destroyed the country over the past eight years. For the first time in history we are in the midst of a major economic crisis while simultaneously being raped for resources by two wars overseas. I no longer trust the Republican Party to run the country. When Clinton was in office we had a surplus and were at peace (except Bosnia, but does that really count?). It’s time to change hands again. Though I have some reservations about Obama, I believe he’s an extremely educated man who has surrounded himself with political geniuses that represent the change we need (to steal a cliché lol). It’s that simple.
(If you are in any way an acquaintance of mine and I ask you why you’re voting for whomever you’re voting for I want a similarly educated and informed answer! There’s only a week left people, get it together! P.S. Isn’t anybody else as scared as I am that Ohio’s going to fuck up the election again because of this new fangled early voting?)
Okay I’m off my soap box.
Until next time…
~D.A. Steward
For those wondering why I haven’t mentioned a single word about my job (which has kept me hella busy and is the reason why I haven’t written in so long) in these past two posts, it is because there will be an entire blog on Nov. 12 dedicated to the culmination of my hard work: Metromix Columbus’ debut! And if you know me you will be using it! You have no choice.
Posted in Uncategorized on October 27, 2008 by dwynstew
Because I’ve been insanely busy, and a bit lazy, this one’s gonna be a two-parter. So, if you’re also too busy, pick your poison: boys or politics? The former will be first up to bat.
After randomly picking up the book “Hard” by Wayne Hoffman (required reading for ENG 326: Lesbian and Gay Literature during my last semester at OU) out of my personal library, I fond the napkin pictured above servicing as a bookmark amongst the novel’s tattered pages.
The napkin was my makeshift “little black book” during my time in St. Petersburg, Florida for the Poynter Institutes’ Summer Fellowship for Young Journalists. As I looked through the names and numbers represented I realized there were a few missing, which further led me to realize that just a year ago I was, to put it lightly, a huge whore.
The napkin full of names and (lack thereof) represents only six weeks of my love life. And of the names listed I can remember the face of only one. Louis. He was the 30-year-old ebony Adonis that I swooned over for the majority of my St. Petersburg getaway. (There are also vague memories of a 35-year-old, Puerto Rican, restaurant owner named Blaine, who I made intimate contact with more then a couple a times during those six weeks, however, somehow his number didn’t make it onto the sacred napkin rolodex.)
The little piece of memorabilia from a time that seems like forever ago got me to thinking about the current situation of my love life. For those wondering, my “dry spell” effectively ended about a week ago (four months!). I don’t think my sex life has been as active since that summer I spent “abroad,” the summer that actually launched this blog (has it really been over a year!?). But the funny thing is some of the men that were the subjects of this blog upon the return from the slut-filled summer are making a sequel-ed appearance.
Fore instance, Jay is back in my life. For those of you unawares, Jay was the 33-year-old airplane mechanic who took to wining-and-dining me back during Christmas. His insecurities about our age difference eventually sent him running. But apparently he’s gotten over that because he’s now back for round two.
Jay and I have been dating on the regular for the past month or so. He’s been great. Very sweet, affectionate, romantic; he’s still on the wine-and-dine kick, which I’m loving of course. He produces stimulating conversation and is extremely sensitive to my needs. (Well, most of my needs. He’s become heavily resistant in the intimacy realm, which I’m still trying to figure out. You know me. I may be a shy, Ohio journalist, upon first introductions, but the words “closet freak” have been used to describe me on more then one occasion.)
So, what’s the problem, (besides the lack of sex) you ask? I don’t feel like we have anything in common. And at times it feels like we’re just going through the motions. But, we’ll come back to Jay later.
Randomly, out of blue, I get a message from Dale this past weekend. Remember Dale? The 24-year-old bohemian, college dropout, who spent his days working as a chef. I met him around the same time I met Jay and we spent one amazing night together before he went down south for the holidays and then never really heard from him again. (He did message me a few months later followed by an equally long silence.)
Anyway, he’s moved into a better apartment, is starting back to school and has even started catering some private parties while still working full time as a chef. However, it’s, of course, always in the back of my head that he’s going to disappear on me again. And the sad things is out of all the guys I’ve been with he’s the most normal and likeable. He’s extremely smart; I could talk to him for hours. He’s challenging; I know he just won’t agree with everything I say. He’s my age; which never happens (again, you know me, lol). And he’s a pretty nice guy; besides the disappearing act. He’s really the only one since Louis that I could see myself being really good friends with.
Ok, so that brings us to guy number three, which really is a non issue at this point. His name is Don and he broke my fourth month losing streak last week. I met him online, per usual. We met. We hit it off. Thus the intimate end result. Anyway, he’s a 37-year-old office worker, pretty normal dude (which, again, never happens, especially from the online crop). I guess some people would take issue with his age, but, as we’ve established, that’s a common trend with me.
Anyway, I haven’t really heard from Don, so, for all intensive purposes we’re going to deem that a one night stand. And the reason why I’m not too perturbed by this is because though he may have been “using me” for that proverbial release, I was pretty much doing the same thing. And it was horribly good. Like that third-piece-of-Cheesecake-Factory-cheesecake-that-you-know-you-shouldn’t-have-and-definitely-can’t-afford-but-you-still-go-for-it good. So it served its purpose. I scratched that itch and now I’m ready to move on.
So you’re wondering, what’s the problem? Sounds like your love (and sex) life are pretty smashing.
Well, according to reliable sources (a.k.a. my nosey ass friends, lol) I cheated on Jay. But I beg to differ. We haven’t officially made things exclusive. A few make out sessions and some dinner dates doesn’t exactly mean you’re engaged. Also, I’m sure you’re getting a escapist vibe about Jay because of I’ve been following most of my praises of him with drawbacks. And maybe you are. I could be sabotaging it like I always do, when something good finally comes along. But, like I said, we have nothing in common. And what if that was the real problem the first time around? What if we’re simply headed towards an inevitable demise?
And with Dale, it’s the age old story of great possibility meets implausibility.
Why is my love life a matter of past meets present, going round and round? And why do I always resort to the proverbial “ditzy, dumb blonde/love-sick school girl” mentality where all this is concerned. I’m smarter then all of this. You’d think I’d have earned my lesson by now. My future seems like the napkin, an unattainable past filled with false hope and inevitable misery.
Comment at your leisure.
~D.A. Steward
Next up….my take on the pending political race. The pretty much “I’m pissed at America and I’m telling you about it” blog post that’s been hanging over my head since McCain picked that ridiculous caricature as his running mate. Tune in. It’ll be great fun.
Posted in Uncategorized on September 22, 2008 by dwynstew
This week Edward Murphy’s famous law of disaster pretty much bent me over and screwed me like a cheap whore. But before I get too graphic let me explain.
So, like many central Ohioans on that fateful windy afternoon of Sunday, September 14, my electric went out, but unlike most, it’s still not on.
A bit of background for those not residing in the Buckeye State: The tail end of Hurricane Ike made its way through Columbus last weekend and pretty much wiped out the electricity in much of the city and surrounding counties. Most were only out for a couple days, receiving power by Tuesday. (The above photo is a sampling of the damage.)
As stated above, Murphy’s Laws took over; deciding life could indeed get worse.
I was already at my parent’s house during the storm because I had come to stay the weekend to visit, do laundry, etc. so I decided to stay put until my electricity retuned. However, I wasn’t aware that my parents’ home was going to be turned into a make-shift shelter. When I returned from work Monday afternoon, they had taken in a family friend and his family and my sister and her baby, who were also victims of the black out.
As most of you are aware I have no cell phone and I’m currently working from home about 90 percent of the time, so my apartment landline has become crucial. This little fact made my staying at my parents’ the only possibility—mooching off someone else’s phone for an entire week can only be gotten away with at the ‘rents. Work, however, soon became impossible with the presence of a screaming child, an annoying 5-year-old, bouncing off the walls, and the general roar from the six other adults rummaging about the house.
Desperate for relief, I called my apartment complex first thing Tuesday morning to inquire about the hopefully revived electricity. Here’s how the conversation transpired:
“Hello, this is North Pointe Apartments, Rachel speaking, how may I help you?”
“Do you know if the electricity in the complex has returned?”
“Yes, the power is back everywhere except in buildings five and seven.”
(Guess which building I live in. I’ll give you two guesses.)
“Do you mean 4305?” I replied with a bit of a shrill.
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Do you have any idea when the power in buildings five and seven will be turned back on?”
“No you’d have to call AEP for that.”
I hang up and quickly dial AEP. After holding for what seems like an eternity, a receptionist answers and tells me she has no idea when service will be restored and the notes they’ve given for Columbus say all circuits should be back up by Monday.
Don’t worry there’s more. I may be going through a dry spell, but good ol’ Murphy here is definitely getting his.
So, while commuting between my apartment, my parents and The Advocate, trying to get what little work I can get done, my parents decide to add my 16-year-old and 7-year-old cousins to the mix. I’m pretty sure Satan dropped the 7-year-old off at his mother’s doorstep. Yes, it may be cruel, but I’m just saying. You know I can’t stand kids.
Anyway, all this is occurring just as a backdrop against some other complicated happenings. I recently acquired another job at Waldenbooks to help pay the bills. It’s just part time, mostly on the weekends, but another responsibility none the less. And at work, as aforementioned, I’m helping start this new entertainment Web site. The newly hired producer of the site, a lad named Jason, who worked on a similar site in Cleveland, started this week. Our launch date is in November, putting work into hyper-speed, because we are crazy far behind.
I did get a raise and a promotion because of my work on the site, which is some good news in all of this. I’m now the Associate Producer of Columbus Metromix. The Web site will be http://columbus.metromix.com. You can check out Cleveland Metromix to see what it will look like.
So, to bring things back to Murphy, Wednesday I attended a funeral. One of my best friends lost her father. However, things weren’t all bad with that because my friend, Chantelle, one of my cousins and I rallied and tried to cheer her up a bit with a late night rendezvous, which was pretty fun. (I don’t feel to right just throwing her name out there all willy nilly without her permission, since It’s her loss and not mine. I love you girl! You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.)
Thursday still no electricity. Friday the same. Saturday morning I call the complex again. They have no news, so I call up AEP. Again, the conversation is below:
“Hello, this is AEP’s customer service how may I help you?”
“I’m calling about the reconnection of my service.” (I give him my account information.)
“Yes, we have a bit of information here. I’m not sure why, but a land wire had to be dug up and re-lain, that’s why it’s taking so long. They’re estimating the service will be restored by Monday night, at the earliest.”
“At the earliest!?”
“Yes, please call back Monday if service has not been restored.” *Click*
The crying commences.
Saturday afternoon/evening I tag along with the fam to the Delaware County Fair, since it’s the last day and I haven’t been since high school. I remember why once I arrive. Our party had five children, the bugs, the heat….I can’t go on, the headache’s returning.
Saturday night I spend the night out at a local straight bar named Red Rock, a surprisingly nice break from the disaster that has been my life. I usually can’t stand Red Rock, too straight for my blood, but the music was descent and there was uncharacteristically plenty of eye candy to keep me occupied.
Which brings us to Sunday, where I caught up on some work with the Web site and worked a shift at Waldenbooks. And now I lay on a coach, my food mostly rotted or eaten by the tornado of people that have been through my parents, still displaced and practically homeless. And I’m being reminded every few minutes why I left in the first place.
I’m sure Murphy’s got another car accident waiting for me around the corner.
Posted in Uncategorized on September 10, 2008 by dwynstew
The past few weeks have oddly been more unsettling since my swearing off of the nocturnal bliss that Dante was once so fond of. And sadly much of my absence from the club scene, gay or otherwise, hasn’t been due to my power of will, so much as to my increased duties at work.
I’ll extend the work aside slightly to offer some background. As said before I’m working on this new Web site at work. It’s called Metromix.com and has been implemented in a few other cities around the nation. Take a gander if you’re interested. I’ve been completely pulled from reporting and ordered to rally the information of 1,000 venues (i.e. restaurants, bars) to fill the database. Meaning I hit the streets everyday for a few hours and then spend the rest of the day writing 100 words for each place and logging them online. Also meaning I work mostly from home. Thought the new tasks come with a raise and a promotion once the site launches, I’m utterly dreading my absence from reporting and writing.
You’d think such an easy task wouldn’t take up so much of my time, but it’s indeed the opposite, before this past weekend I hadn’t seen any of my friends, or anyone really, for quite a few weeks and even longer since I’ve partaken of the horizontal tango. As a brutally truthful friend brought to my attention, I’m having less sex now then I was while living with my parents. Oh lord, now that I’ve seen it written on paper it seems even more pathetic. When did it come to this?
However, like I said things did pick up this past weekend. Friday I spent the evening catching up with two sets of friends, two from high school and two from OU. I’d nearly forgotten what it was like to experience the lethargic feeling that comes with having fun with one’s comrades. It was exactly what I needed and a tinge of choked-up sadness even arose at their departure.
So, Saturday, though I had almost talked myself out of it, I went to the gay club Wall Street to catch one of my good friend’s drag shows. And though the show was amazing and I had a blast with some friends afterwards, being back in that atmosphere actually annoyed me more then ever. Everyone, with their perfectly coiffed hair, glittered chests, and creased designer jeans, constantly roaming the room, superficially looking for the next best thing. But, somehow, when I swore off that whole scene, normal contact with the part I was actually fond of, the time spent with friends, disappeared along with it.
This blog has been reduced to rambling. Hmm, maybe they’re all that way. Why do you guys put up with these things again? Lol. Anyway, I swear I have a point. If you’ll bear with me. We’ll take a subject interlude to break up the monotony.
I never did tell you about the house warming party. I guess it’s been a little while since I’ve written. It was fun, sort of, lol. A ton of people showed, which was nice, but slight drama ensued with my some of the family. My cousin became engulfed in a public drama with her ex and my two sisters where a complete drunken mess of embarrassments. I made the mistake of having another party the next weekend, at which my siblings’ behavior was 10 times worse, resulting in their banishment from apartment, drunk or otherwise. Now that I think about it, these two weekends may have been the reason for my descent into antisocialism.
Anyway, onto another major subject change (again, I swear there’s a point). I heard recently that two of my good friends who were dating for quite sometime have called it quits. I’ll spare their names, to protect the innocent, so to speak. But the news, though expected (they’d been having problems for quite some time), did give me a bit of a shock.
There have been only four gay long-term couples that I’ve grown close to over the years. Two of them have crashed and burned and one is hanging on by a thread; the two hate each other, but can’t seem to end it. The fact that there were only four couples to begin with is sad, but now that I’ve seen two unravel it’s slightly disconcerting.
At the risk of stealing a Sex and the City cliché, I’m looking for love. That can’t sleep, can’t eat, all-consuming, bend over backwards, feels so good that it hurts, type of love. And I’ve based much of my hope, and even belief, of ever finding it on the fact that I knew at least eight people who had. Now I’m not so sure.
I know there’s a ton of happy gay couples out there who’ve stood the test of time, proven by the horde of gays who rushed the alter once California declared gay marriage legal. But how long will those relationships last? Are we just like our straight counterparts who suffer the oppressing glare of that 50 percent success rate statistic when they walk down the aisle?
Maybe I’ve become bitter. The result of my witnessing the relationships dissolving around me (there’s also been a few straight breakups/disputes amongst my circle) and also the simple fact that I have yet to secure a real boyfriend, in the traditional sense anyway. Though, I’ve got to laugh at that one. Bitter at 23. Does that make me hopeless? Which I guess brings me back to antisocial rant.
Dante was supposed to be the part of me that charmed that perfect guy and snagged him so Dwayne could fall in love with him. And he the same. But, with Dante, as the old adage goes, you can’t live with him, but you also can’t live without him. And now, sadly, I’m finding that without him I’m no longer living.
Is finding love for Dwayne impossible without Dante? Or am I, better yet, are we all kidding ourselves altogether?
Posted in Uncategorized on August 5, 2008 by dwynstew
I thought I’d start breaking up my usually long-winded posts with something a little more visually appealing. So I’ll be interrupting my regularly scheduled programming with any interesting video or photos that I’ve taken.
For this musical interlude we bring you my latest coverage of the Dave Matthews and Musiq Soulchild concerts I covered last week.
If you’re checking this out from MySpace or Facebook click HERE.
Posted in Uncategorized on July 25, 2008 by dwynstew
Knock! Knock! Knock!
I shoot up out of bed. It’s 3:17 a.m. I roll onto the floor before using the wall to gain my footing, blindly patting the desk surface to find my glasses before flipping on the lights.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“I’m coming!” I shout toward the door. If this is Brittney waking me up again because of some silly fight she’s had with Erica I’m going to shoot her. I have to be up for work in four hours!
I quickly grab a t-shirt from the dirty clothes hamper and throw it on before stumbling out of my room toward the front door. After fiddling with the locks I open it. Barely having time to realize it’s Brian at my doorstep, and before the shock of his surprise appearance at this hour even has time to register, he’s in my arms, and I’m deep in a loving kiss, his tongue already caressing my own.
A few second pass as I am lost in his embrace. I quickly come to my senses and push him away.
“Brian I have ‘bed-breathe’ and I smell. A make-out session probably isn’t the best idea right now,” I say continuing to back away. I learned a while ago that Brian and I in the same room alone only leads to trouble. The more distance the better. “I thought you were in Europe.”
“I was,” he says, that southern twang sending an erotic ripple through my spine. I gain control and keep my distance. “I just got back a little while ago and had to come see you.”
“What? You just got back from a romantic vaca with your hubby and you’re already horny!” I shoot back hoping to regain complete control of the unexpected encounter. “Good night, Brian. I don’t have time for this.” I turn to head toward my room and he grabs my arm.
“I was having the most romantic European vacation ever, with someone I was supposed to be in love with. But all I could think about was you,” he says bringing his hand up to caress my cheek.
I couldn’t help but smile. Brian and I had met through mutual friends nearly two months ago and were instantly attracted to one another. Two make-out sessions (the second of which going past third base) later I found myself slightly falling for the chemistry Ph.D. carrying, hair-highlighted hottie. However I soon remembered how we’d left things before his trip and my face turned back to stone.
“Brian, where is this coming from? I haven’t heard from you since Pride Weekend almost a month ago,” I say. “I sent you two texts and never heard anything back. I assumed you’d forgotten about me.”
“I’m sorry. I got your texts while I was at the airport before leaving for Europe, and I did ignore them. I thought if I ignored you I’d forget about you and concentrate on my boyfriend like I as supposed to. But I couldn’t.”
After saying this Brian starts to come toward me. I am now up against the living room wall so there is no escape. He puts his hand on my side. “Dwayne, I think I’m in love with you.”
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to grab him and kiss him and make love to him and start a life together. But my pessimism wouldn’t let me. I slip away and walk into the kitchen, now standing at the sink with my back to him.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I say finally. “What if you get sick of me like you got sick of David? I’m not some rebound you can just use and toss aside until you find some hot personal trainer.”
Brian has already made his way into the kitchen and is hugging me from behind. He kisses the back of my neck.
“You’re everything that I want,” he whispers.
The wall of will power begins to crumble, I turn around, and our lips met again.
I shoot out of bed in a cold sweat. It’s 4:22 a.m. on July 25, nearly a month since the last time I saw Brian, still unsure if he’s home or still in Europe with his boyfriend.
I get up and head to the bathroom to splash my face with water. I grab the towel hanging beside me and stare at my disheveled appearance in the mirror.
“You’re hopeless.”
I head back to my room and fall into bed, heading back into the comfort of my impossibly optimistic dreams.
–
This is my life. Alone and always pining after what I can’t have. Sad, isn’t it?
I realized that it’s been almost two months since my last Dwayne/Dante post and I thought it was high time for another one. I find that writing for this blog is more therapeutic then anything else. I always find myself coming back to flesh out my confusions and recharge my battered psyche. I thank all of you for bearing with me, for this is again is one of those times.
So, the last time we talked I was discussing Dorian, correct? Well, he’s left, returned, left and returned again since then, amidst a slew of others.
Let’s run through the basics before I flesh out the rest of the story.
I moved out of my parents into my own apartment June 1. I learned quite a while ago that I am incapable of having a roommate so I’ve procured a one-bedroom apartment (near Easton for those of you in the area). My best friend, Krissy, was married and I stood alongside her as a groomsmen at her wedding (photo below). And in my own search for Mr. Right, often leading down the path of promiscuity, I contracted an unwanted, slightly painful companion. (Don’t worry I’ve been cured and am fine. Just a little embarrassment that has taught me that the price of latex negligence is too high.)
At work things are picking up tremendously. We’re starting to expand the entertainment department technologically and I’m at the head of the grunt work for the project, which has doubled my duties. However, I did get the chance to interview this year’s “American Idols” (click HERE for pics and HERE for video) so I guess I can’t complain.
Okay, now back to the juicy stuff.
After moving into my own place meeting men became a little easier, yet it kept returning the same results. Enter Al, Wayne, Tim, Brian, James, and the reentrance of Jay and Dorian. Who all became duds or entered into the “just friends” category. Jay and Dorian are still on the radar somewhat, but I still don’t see anything long term blossoming.
I feel like I’ve come to a bit of a crossroads. Things are changing. Even my friends are noticing. Lamar keeps commenting on how I’ve become a bit socially awkward lately. Every weekend he introduces me to a new set of his friends when we’re out at the bars and somehow I always shut down. I’m pretty sure it’s because I’ve outgrown the gay bar scene. But that scares me a little. How can I be 23 and have outgrown the bar scene?
The simple fact is that it annoys me. All these superficial hard bodies running around as if life is only about having a good time with hottest piece of meat you can find. And I don’t fit the mold. I’m a chubby, intellectual who’s in love with journalism and pop culture. I’m not exactly what many of these gay bar junkies are looking for.
So like I said I’m at a bit of a crossroads. I’ve decided to take a break from the gay night life and focus on work, but most of you know me, I can’t live by journalism alone. So now I have the task of finding gay groups in Columbus that aren’t bath houses or tied to any sort of the fitness activity, so I don’t completely sever myself from the gay community. Any ideas?
One things for sure. I’m done looking. It’s time for Mr. Right to find me.
Until next time,
D.A. Steward
P.S. I’ve decided to start including an updated slide show and maybe some video with each post. Enjoy! (For those of you reading this on facebook or myspace click HERE for the official Dwayne/Dante blog Web site to see the slide show.)
Expecting to wallow in my continuing post-college depression, I naturally assumed I’d be spending my 23rd birthday with my grandmother, whose birthday is the same day, watching soap operas and eating ice cream. But apparently Dante (and my friends) had other plans.
Usually I’ve defined a good birthday as having lots of three things: people, gifts and alcohol. Every year I’ve packed out my house (or someone else’s) only finding bliss amongst a crowded booze-filled fiesta. However, this year, I spent the brunt of my birthday with only two people, received less then $100, and didn’t exactly get as drunk as predicted, and yet I probably had one of the best weekends of my life.
It may have been because the festivities started on Thursday and continued through Sunday (something I haven’t done in quite some time). And I did let Dante out of the bag (for those wondering), but he wasn’t able to secure the one thing I actually wanted for my birthday. (I’ll let your imagination figure it out, lol).
Thursday, my life-long pal Lamar and his recently committed and trés adorable partner Tim, treated me to a special dinner, complete with cake and ice cream and they even gave me a gift. Friday offered an impromptu dinner with my grandmother and a night of musical theatre at Shadowbox Cabaret, a rock and roll comedy sketch club, sponsored by my little sis, Leanna.
Saturday the official family birthday party took place at my aunt’s house but ended abruptly for myself when it became overran with children (whom we all know I can’t stand). So I escaped to Lamar and Tim’s metro chic suburban home for cocktails (a Screwdriver to be exact), before heading out on the town, where things got interesting, as they always do.
A Sex on the Beach and two (or three) Amaretto Sours later, at a gay club called Union, Dante was out, but slightly more timid then usual. In a surprise twist, Lamar (whose been using me to play matchmaker since my return to O-town in September) invited his friend Robert, who was later joined by the equally eligible Brian and Mike. Apparently, when Lamar and Tim took a smoking break I was supposed to pounce. However, my first thought after seeing Robert was, “this dude is a gorgeous, 27-year-old lawyer, what the hell would he want with me?” not “Let’s get it on.”
Dante must have recently been taking lessons from Mother Teresa because I was definitely off my game, and this new development, unfortunately, lasted throughout the weekend. Robert eventually took my shyness for uninterest and scurried off with his friends to another bar. And apparently he was indeed trying to flirt with me, evident by a scold from Lamar and a moment when he was resting his head on my shoulder. I know, I know, I totally blew it.
However, before I had time to contemplate my fumble another surprise awaited with the arrival of my best gal pal, Ashlee, and her mother, and later Evan and his bf Charlie, two of my favorites from OU, randomly showed up for some B-day lovin. All came with drinks, which cemented my inebriation for the evening.
After Union we headed to Tradewinds, a slightly more risqué environment, because, as usual, Dante wanted to get his groove on. However, this is the point where things became sort of wavy, memory-wise. I believe we left Tradewinds after drink one (a Long Island Iced Tea) because Lamar’s past was a little too prevalent at the bar, if you know what I mean.
Anywayz, we headed to this bar called Wall Street, it’s mostly a dike bar, but they play the best music; hip hop, not that disco mess, lol. And, again, Dante’s recent conversion to Catholicism took hold. We’re out on the dance floor and I’m sweatin’ up a storm (so I’m probably not looking to great to begin with), but there were a few guys doin’ the high-school-dance-accidental-bumping to get me to dance and, even after some quite forceful nudging from Lamar, I totally didn’t catch on.
Fed up with my drunken awkwardness Lamar and Tim suggested we go home and we soon left. In retrospect Lamar says I protested and wanted to stay longer, but during the next few songs would just stand there staring with my month open like some autistic step child and immediately passed out when they got me to the car. This, however, I don’t remember. So let’s just agree that it didn’t happen, lol.
Sunday the hangover took place back at the Union for brunch, where I ran into another old OU pal, Micah Mitchell, escaping to Columbus for a weekend of debauchery to get over his recent break with long-time bf Max.
Then I, unfortunately, had to work (covering BalletMet’s “Romeo and Juliet” matinee), but afterwards continued blazing the B-day trail. Lamar and I accompanied Tim to another gay bar called Axis for a drag show where his group Flaggots (a gay male color guard) was making a brief appearance.
Again, Lamar’s match-making instinct kicked in when he spotted his friend, Eric, a youngin in a pink tee. He quickly rushed me to the boy’s side for a bit of awkward conversing while he left with Tim to smoke. This time acting as Dwayne and completely worn out from the four-day fest, I tried to initiate a conversation but Eric was too enthralled with the show and his fag hag so, much to Lamar’s dismay, I bailed.
After enjoying a Sex on the Beach and Tim’s amazing gun-twirling performance to a homoerotic version of Toni Basil’s “Mickey” (most-known for its appearance in the beginning of “Bring It On”) I bid my two besties adieu and drove off into the sunset, a content but sexually frustrated freshly minted 23-year-old.
(Again, I know this post is crazy long, and I apologize, but there was just too much goodness not to elaborate. Forgive me?)
Until next time…
~D.A. Steward
P.S. Good or bad, leave a comment below! How are you all??? I MISS YOU!
