Au revoir, America! Bonjour, France!!

"We made a deal ages ago... men, babies, doesn't matter... we're soulmates."

~ Samantha, Sex and the City 2

Long time, no see, blog world!

I felt it was about time for a return. I know I keep saying that I'm going to make a fantastic comeback to this blog... but I suck and haven't.

To be honest, there just hasn't been a lot that I can openly talk about on the blog. Or a lot that isn't just me moping about things. Because I've become really good at that: moping. And as Hamlet once asked, "To mope or not to mope? That is the question"... and I chose the latter.

But, why I return now, is I'm about to embark on a really great adventure. For the next five weeks I will be living in France. I was accepted into a dance program called MADE in France earlier this year and now will get the opportunity to travel to France. I will spend the first few weeks in Paris, doing research and taking technique classes and then travel to Melisey and continue work on a final project that will have a public showing at the end of my adventures.

I feel like Carrie in the series finale of Sex and the City... except I'm not going off to meet The Russian nor am I expecting my Big to race halfway across the world to tell me how much he loves me... but I am expecting a whirlwind adventure in one of the greatest cities on Earth and one of the most beautiful countries... and I the entire time? I get to dance. Yep. I'm going to dance in France. I can already feel my creative juices coming alive and the electricity about to pour out.

And that's why I return to my blog! To talk about my awesome adventures overseas.

It's interesting how Sex and the City always seems to nails me so well (Sex and the City/nailing pun too tacky? I'm trying to get back in my Carrie Bradshaw groove. I'll work on it). The reason I am most excited for France is that lately... I feel boring. I feel like my life has kind of hit this repetitive state of the same old, same old. I'm restless. I'm ready to escape and achieve something greater but keep running around in circles and drowning in disappointments. Sex and the City 2 premiered this week, and my girl Carrie is going through the same problems with Big. She is worried about becoming that old couple that sits around and watches TV... she's worried about compromising her exciting life and... settling. And to figure things out she goes to Abu Dabi. I guess France will just have to be my equivalent.

That's become my biggest fear as of late. Settling. In my career, in my love life... just in general. So what do I do? I runaway. I runaway from all the mundanity that is surrounding me and I escape to France for five weeks. And hopefully, through my art... through my exploration of sound and movement, I can find a fabulousness and sense of quest that will keep driving me forward. Maybe... I'll find what I'm looking for... or at least figure out what I'm looking for...

So, I've got my copy of Sex and the City and the newly released The Carrie Diaries to read on the plane flight, I've got my Macbook (ready to ingest all my fantastic, French stories), and I've got a feeling that this trip is exactly what I need to revitalize myself. Maybe I'll finally find myself on this trip.

I'm ready for a new world. A new environment with new people and new stories. I'm ready to swish things up.

P.S.

In other news, I've been recording an album. Kind of. It started off as a joke where I just wrote a bunch of pop songs and put in a bunch of pop music cliches, and then people started really enjoying the music... so with my garageband I've recording a pop/comedy album called Year of the Cougar. I just wanted to record a bunch of really terrible, but fun pop songs and people wanted to hear it so... it's on iTunes! So. If you can spare 99 cents click the link below and purchase my debut song, "Drop Dead Gorgeous."

Now the songs are supposed to be funny so don't be afraid to laugh, but also don't be afraid to make them your number one guilty pleasure... after all, being a guilty pleasure is more or less the purpose of terrible pop songs... Well, now that terrible pop songs have a purpose, it's time to find mine. Here I come, France!!

"Drop Dead Gorgeous" on iTunes:

Drop Dead Gorgeous by James Cougar Canfield - Download Drop Dead Gorgeous on iTunes

Sex and Another City

"You can turn painful situations around through laughter. If you can find humor in anything... you can survive it."
~ Billy Cosby

I'm halfway done with college. Isn't that ridiculous? I've finished my sophomore year and just think back on this year... on how many more songs I can relate to now. It's getting easier and easier to appreciate those songs about stupid boys, heartbreak, falling in love... It's getting easier to appreciate those songs about friendship... It's easier to appreciate how beautiful and powerful it is to be alone, and how sad and distressing it is...

I finished my last final on Tuesday, shortly after I tossed all my stuff into by suitcase and escaped. I'm currently typing at Diane's computer in Oklahoma. I feel like a foreign exchange student of sorts. I've left my college family in St. Louis to come live with and experience Diane's college family in Oklahoma.

As much as I love meeting new people, its made me miss everyone back in St. Louis right now. I see how Diane and her friends act with each other and miss how my friends and I act in St. Louis world. I was so desperate to get out of town, be done with this stupid year, I got out of there as soon as possible.

I've been desperate for this year to end. I just want everything that happened to me this year to go away so I can get back to normal. I want to have what I've learned and move on. It's not that simple, though. Just because a year ends, just because you escape town... doesn't mean everything else ends.

It's like when Carrie and Aiden broke up the first time and she got out of New York and went to Los Angeles. Or something like that...

You still think about him. You still wish things worked out. You still wish you were kissing him. You wish he would come home. You still wish the world would move a little faster so you don't have to wait. You're still trying to get over him and be ready for what's next. You're still putting together the pieces of your heart. You still think about him at 2 AM. You still think of him every time you here those damn songs...

You just have a different group of friends to talk about it to.

And sometimes in the midst of all this moping, you realize you're not talking about just your unboyfriend... in fact, you are talking about him a lot less than you ever have... and more and more about a new boy on the horizon. You're next love interest, the featured star of the next season of the TV show that is your life.

Too bad that TV show is on indefinate hiatus. It's interesting being on the side of the escape. The side that's left behind, while the other person escapes to a foreign world. It's hard being the one who has to wait while your new love interest goes on fantastic adventures in foreign places and all you can do is sit in your best friend's apartment and fantasize about your future together.

Look at me, calling this upcoming boy my love interest... We haven't even gone on a date together, I'm definately jumping the gun here... all we have is just endless hours of conversations and intimate messages... and butterflies. There are definate butterflies.

Next time I'm back in St. Louis I get to see him. He'll be back from his international adventures (which he is currently internet less... so really, all I really have is my fantasies, I don't even AIM...), I'll be back from my great escape...

I just took a break from typing this. Went into Diane's living room, sat in this papazan chair...
and then fell over.
It was like slow motion, the chair started leaning over and as I was halfway down, I realized...
There was nothing I could do.
And as I laid sprawled there on the ground, the chair on its side, and Diane, her friends, and my self cackling out of control.
I realized I couldn't be happier
and so thankful that there isn't an ounce of shame in my body.

Cuz for that moment
I forgot that I was waiting for this boy to come home
I forgot that I hated this past school year with a passion
I forgot that I feel really lonely when it's late at night
I forgot that I missed everyone in St. Louis

And I just laughed.
Fuck it. I'm having fun with my awesome foreign exchange family
in Oklahoma.

What. Up. :)

Eat your heart out <3

“When did being alone become the modern day equivalent to being a leper? Will Manhattan restaurants soon be divided in to sections? Smoking/non-smoking? Single/non-single?” 

~ Carrie, SATC Season 2, “They Shoot Single People, Don’t They?”

I could feel the judgment. The air was thick with it.

There I was sitting at Qdoba, eating my burrito, and feeling the stares. I was eating alone: the ultimate mealtime faux-pas.

It's frightening the stigma against the single eaters. There are unwritten rules of eating alone. When ordering, don't get too much, the cashier will wonder, "Are you going to eat all that... by yourself?" Be careful where you sit, if you sit alone at a table or booth you will be judged for taking up space that should be reserved for couples and groups. Glares will be inevitable. To avoid these glares, you should reside your single self at the bar section made for the lonely souls. The single people bar is usually located by a window, so the people outside the restaurant can walk by and feel pity for your loner meal. At Qdoba, a women in her sixties walked by, looked into the window at me in the singles seats, and gave me a look so wrought with pity that my single security was shaken to its core. 

My plan was to hang around Qdoba after I finished my burrito, but the single status was too frightening and a booked it out of there and back to my apartment. 

Last week, I had a similar experience. I had arrived to lunch a few minutes early, and I decided to grab the table that my friends and I normally sit at. I sat there waiting for my friends to arrive. I pulled out my computer and started surfing the internet. After a few moments of sitting alone, the pressure started. Maybe they weren't staring, but I felt at least a sharp looks of the people around me. They were questioning, "Why is that boy sitting alone?" And then people I know (who I happen to can't stand) just appeared in the food court, too. And they saw me sitting alone. And I don't know why, but I felt so embarrassed. There was something about sitting alone, without my friend for defense that made me feel so naked. So unarmed. 

And the reason I know people were passing judgment about my single eating self is because I, myself, am notorious for passing judgment on single eaters. I mean, I don't see a person eating alone and think, "God, they must be eating alone 'cause they're a freak." But, I do feel pity for them. I think to myself, "I should go over and sit with them. They need a friend." I know if someone had come over while I was at Qdoba or waiting for my friends tried something like that, I would have punched them in the face and felt completely disrespected. 

We are programmed from when we are young that sitting alone is a bad thing. We were taught that if someone was sitting or standing alone in the lunchroom, we should go over, introduce ourselves, and become friends. No one should be alone. While eventually as we grow older we lose the initiative to go over and make friends, the thought still remains with us: Eating alone is bad. 

And because of this, I now have a permanent judgement/fear of single eaters. Dang it.

There are definite perks of being alone. I occasionally enjoy taking a day entirely to myself. I find those days are the most productive days. Or at least the most relaxing. Or the most introspective. As long as those alone days don't ever move into the public eye. Then you face a Qdoba situation.

I decided to continue my exploration of single eating and the judgment that came with it. I chose to go to McDonalds (I never eat at McDonalds, but I had the biggest craving for a BigMac it was a ridiculous, and it was just a block down the road from me).  As I went to order my BigMac, the female cashier, a young woman probably around my age, flirtatiously teased me about my order. My ego got a little boost. I was getting flirted with and although due my sexual preference I had no interest in this girl, I still felt a little confidence bump. After my order was placed, I went and sat by a nearby table and waited. When they called my name it was the same female cashier to give me my burger. In a flirtatious, sweet voice she says, "You look lonely over there."

Now, normally this would be cute, a little flirty way to get someone to talk to you or spend more time with you, but in my current mindset of single eating, all ego boost  was gone. Evaporated. Executed. Gone. I looked lonely. All I did was sit at a table by myself, play with my phone, and suddenly I was lonely. My aura screamed lonely. And while this cutie pie had just intended some light flirting, I was suddenly struck with a sinking feeling. I couldn't even escape the single stigma... at McDonalds!

And so the idea of loneliness really set in... My single eating and the taboos that came with it had caused me to develop a full on case of the alones. 

In order to remedy my loneliness, I quickly sent several of my friends a joking text about being hit on by the female cashier. They responses would hopefully be the perfect cure to my alones. As I waited for my friends to respond, in true Carrie Bradshaw fashion, I couldn't help but wonder, was my 'single eating' making me lonely? Or was my loneliness making 'single eating' unbearable? 

I started to reflect on my current single situation. First Dater (who shall henceforth be referred to as D) and I bumped up our second date from Saturday to last night. We had another great time, but at the end of the date, I had to make a confession to him: I wasn't ready to be in a committed relationship. I had thought about this since we had our first date, and after must consultation with my girls I came to this conclusion: Since I still am a resident of post-break-up-recovery world and with summer coming quickly, I just couldn't get behind having another long distance relationship when I moved back home while he remained here. And for some reason, for probably the first time in my life, I just wanted to be... single...

And this is what worries me, D is a great guy, I should be desperately wanting to be in a committed relationship with him, he's everything I could ask for in a boyfriend.

And in my complicated, over-dramatic head, I start thinking, Why don't I want to be in a relationship? Is this permanent? Will I ever want to be in a relationship again? Am I going to be one of those people who are doomed to be single forever?

I blame the McDonalds cashier for these thoughts. And the old women who judged me for eating alone outside the window of Qdoba... will I forever be the single eater?

...And would that be such a bad thing? True I would have to constantly face the judgment of the single eater nay sayers, but I mean, I would never have to share my food, never have to worry about who's paying for the meal, I could eat whatever I want...

And that's what scares me. The idea that eventually I may become okay with this single lifestyle. I don't necessarily mean that being single is bad, but I could fall in love with it. Just dating when  I wanted to and enjoying life on my own. After all, I'm an independent person, I might just need to live life on my own. And maybe that's truly the final step of the post-break-up-recovery world, learning to live on your own. And love it.

And once again, I'm back to the same idea I've mentioned before: It's about loving yourself.

And once again, I think:

Loving yourself? Easier said than done...

And soon I learn that, however hard it maybe...

and learn to think of it as a love of self and not loneliness.

Maybe then, I'll be ready to commit... and invite that person to come with me to meals

But until then...

I guess I just have to learn to love...

Eating alone.

Let me begin...

My friends and I have a joke. We are each a character of Sex and the City. My friend, Diane, is Charlotte, due to her sense of romanticism, love and commitment. My friend, Katie, is Samantha due to her resistance against marriage and her ability to be a completely satisfied person single. No one is Miranda because we think she is a heinous hagbitch.

And I'm Carrie. I'm complicated, yet cautious; romantic, yet cynical; confused, yet headstrong. I watch Sex and the City and find Carrie knows my life. I identify with her completely and entirely. I'm a writer, too. It fits. My friend and I fit perfectly in our own little SATC world. 

I love when we get together and relate every happenings in our life to episodes of SATC, I love watching an episode and completely and totally identifying with everything those lovely ladies are talking about. Last summer, before the premiere of the Sex and the City movie, the three of us gathered together each night at one of our houses and had an SATC marathon. As corny and ridiculous as this may sound, it brought the three of us closer together. We were all back from college, all with stories to tell, all with new relationships blooming, and Carrie and the gang to get us going. We spent the nights gabbing about our love lives, nicknaming boys, talking about what makes each us tick and what we want from relationships. 

I have always been an extremely private person with my relationships up until about a year ago. I didn't like to tell the details about any happenings within my boyfriend and I's little world. I still try to remain as private as possible, but instead of hiding the facts from the world, I've learned that I have to share things. Why keep everything bottled inside when you have fabulous girlfriends to listen to your stories and help you through the worst of times and cherish the best of times? 

So, letting out these worlds to two of my closest girls was awesome. By the time of the midnight SATC Movie premiere we were tight, and felt so close to these ladies (both on screen and off). Throughout the movie, we couldn't help but gaps in unison, cry into each others shoulders, and grab onto each other's thighs when something fantastic (or something terrible) happened. We loved these woman on the screen as if they were a part of the posse, and I think we loved these fictional characters so much because they had pushed us to discuss, frankly speak, and open up about our lives to each other. They brought us together.

Since, Sex and the City has been an obsession with me. I love the idea about being open about sex, life, love, and saying, "Hey cutie pie! Listen! Someone out there can relate to you! Here's there story! Come cry, laugh, scream, and love with me!!" 

...and who says I can't be the person saying those things. Who says I have to stay private about my life when I have a fantastic/dramatic/ridiculous/absurd/wonderful life that other people might be able to identify with?

So I'm going to be Carrie. Well, a gay male version of Carrie. I want to write about my sex life, my love life, my friends life, my life. I want to let the world in on what its like to be the gay best friend and the stories that have to be told. Because, maybe, just maybe, there is someone out there who is going through the same thing and needs to know they're not alone. And maybe, by finally being open about these things in my life, I can finally start figuring myself out. 

I'm going to be straight up, I'm not totally doing this blog thing for the sake of helping others, but also for helping myself. There are so many things that are going on in my head, so many stories of bad boyfriends and good boyfriends, betrayal and love, companionship and hate, friendship and lust... I need to spill. For. Real.

So hopefully, someone will relate to me. I'm not Carrie, my life is probably no where near as fantastic and hers is, but I know I have something to say... so I'm going to say it. And maybe I'll figure me out. And maybe someone else can figure themselves out too.

These of the confessions of your gay best friend.

The answers to questions that people are to afraid to ask.

The one's that movies, books, and even other gay men are afraid to talk about.

This is where the gay best friend stops being a supporting role.

And becomes a lead. 

Because its about time someone started talking about it.... 

Holla 

:)