Okay.
So I created a new blog.
And I felt like an imposter. Someone else. It felt like I put on a costume and was pretending to be someone other than Maddog.
And the end result.
I hated writing.
So I didn’t.
Now it’s been four years and I have posted in forever.
So let’s wrap this up.
So long Dr.
Hello Maddog.
http://maddoginthecity.wordpress.com/
Come back to my old house.
Please.
I promise I’ll be home from now on.
This was an email I sent to Adam about 10 minutes ago.
I’m…
Grumpy.
Tired.
Cold.
Sleepy.
Sad.
Annoyed.
Jealous.
Happy.
Achy.
Full.
Hurting.
Jittery.
Awake.
Congested.
Bored.
I don’t mind these things.
I’ve been them before.
For a long time.
A very long time.
I wish that I were being them with you.
Then.
I wouldn’t mind.
Being these things.
Because.
I’d be lying.
Next to you.
Asleep.
Warm.
Snugly.
Instead I’m here.
Alone.
And.
And.
And.
And.
And.
Grumpy.
Tired.
Cold.
Sleepy.
Sad.
Annoyed.
Jealous.
Happy.
Achy.
Full.
Hurting.
Jittery.
Awake.
Congested.
Bored.
Alone.
I shouldn’t mind being alone.
I’ve been alone before.
A.
Long.
Time.
A.
Very.
Long.
Time.
That was long ago.
Now I’m not alone.
Therefore.
When I am alone.
I don’t like the aloneness.
Thinking about this.
Seems silly.
Silly.
Silly.
I’m a grown up.
A grown man.
An old man.
I should not mind.
The aloneness.
But.
But.
But.
I.
Do.
I.
Do.
I do.
I.
I want.
To be next to you.
To feel your touch.
Listen to you breathe.
Watch as your chest rises.
And.
Falls.
As you breathe.
This is.
What I want.
Now.
I.
Must.
Not Think.
About.
This.
I must Not.
Think.
About.
This.
I must not Think.
About.
This.
I must not think.
About.
This.
I must not think about. this.
I MUST not think about this.
I must go to bed.
Alone.
Dream.
You.
Tomorrow.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Of us.
Is it morning?
Am I awake?
I guess not.
I’m still alone.
The week or so following the first date were not so hot ones for me.
I fell into the after holiday depression that I always experience. Coupled with the just started dating stress and I was in a state. For at least three weeks, I was miserable. I wrote about much of that pain. I’ve dealt with depression for years. And trust me when I say it sucks. Out loud. I tend to want to hide during that time, and usually turn to food and sex to help with the pain. Not healthy no, but I’ve tried to stop beating myself up about it. Since I’ve been trying to watch my weight and had just started dating someone, I had to sit with my feelings with no way to numb them. So I suppose for the first time in years, I took the healthy approach and just waited for it to lift. It started to get better around February 1st. It’s much better now.
As for Adam.
The stress of starting to date someone is not fun at all. I have watched hundreds of romantic comedies and it’s stunning to know how much in truth they are based. How soon can I call? Can I text? Should I wait three days? Should I wait for him to call? How quickly should I ask for a second date? A third date? A fourth date? How can I tell if he’s really interested in me rather than just the sex? Is he going on dates with me then heading off to the movies? Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Couple that with the depression and I was a mess. I just wanted to crawl into bed and hide. To make matters worse I had no one to talk to about all of this. My roommate reads Maddog and never once mentioned anything I was writing about. Even though I was pretty clear about how depressed I was. When I tried to talk to him about it, he more or less told me to get over it. At least I was dating someone. My friend Michelle had her own stuff to deal with. I tried to talk to a couple of other people and that didn’t work either. So I ended up dealing with it on my own. Sometimes I wonder how I managed without going crazy.
As I said around February 1st this all lifted. I think it was a two part situation. The depression always starts to lift after about a month. And Adam and I had a long talk about the future of our relationship. We both admitted that we weren’t seeing other people nor were we having sex with anyone else. Adam insisted at this point that he didn’t want to rush things and that he didn’t want to fall into the situation where we had to see each other everyday. He was interested in me, but was not sure he wanted to get into a serious relationship.
Tune in tomorrow and I’ll explain why.
I have a boyfriend.
Have I mentioned that?
In case I have not.
I have a boyfriend.
His name is Adam.
He’s from Texas.
He has a mohawk.
He’s ten years younger than me.
I have a boyfriend.
All kidding aside. I just told you everything I’d shared with you so far. I’ve been kind of reticent to share too much because I didn’t want to jinx it. I also spent a month without sharing on here because I was still trying to figure out how to deal with the people I know who read the blog. Now I’m a little out of practice. I’m really going to try and start blogging regularly again.
So my boyfriend.
We met on January 5th.
How we met is a little embarrassing. Anyone who reads my blog knows that occasionally I like to frequent a place I refer to as the movies. Someone, sometime should ask me to explain why I call it the movies. And trust me it’s not why you think.
Anyway.
I spent the New Years weekend in Maine. I flew home on Monday, January 5th. I’d been in a mood all weekend. I usually love Maine, but that weekend I just wanted to strangle the lesbians. So when I got home on Monday I needed to blow off a little steam. Pun Intended. So I headed downtown to the movies.
A trip to the movies can be a five minute adventure. Or a five hour adventure. I’d been there about three hours when Adam walked in. I thought he was very cute. And I persuaded him to play around with me. And so we did. And at the end he asked if I’d be interested in getting together sometime. So I gave him my phone number.
And I left.
I got a text from him a couple of hours later.
“It’s Adam. Here’s my number. Great meeting you. 
“
I responded by saying that I very much enjoyed meeting him as well.
There were a series of back and forths over the next couple of days, playing texting tag.
We finally decided to do something the following Sunday and that we would talk on Saturday to figure out what.
So on Saturday, January 10th he called. I was still in bed having worked the night before.
And we chatted. For 30 minutes. About mostly nothing. But the conversation flowed effortlessly. It was nice. At the end of the conversation, I told him that I wasn’t sure if this was a date/date or a sex/date. He told me…if your nice it might be both.
As you know from the post I made that night. I was a nervous wreck. I hadn’t been on a date in years. I wasn’t sure about any of it.
And the next day arrived.
And I showed up.
And the date lasted nine hours.
Check out my posts on January 11th and January 12th to see how the set up for the date went as well as the date.
And this seems as good a time as any to leave you hanging. So tune in tomorrow for more of the story.
I need to get back into the swing of things with this here blog. I’m out of the habit and now it’s hard to make myself sit down and write. And it’s even harder to think of things to write about.
So perhaps I should spend some time telling you about my boyfriend.
Adam.
After that I don’t know what to share. I do know however that I have at least four or five readers that moved with me. So ask me some questions about Adam and I’ll answer them for you.
Perhaps that will kickstart this blogging thing again.
Things that annoy me:
People who think I’m full of myself just because I’m good at what I do.
People who sit at my table for four hours and tip me 8 dollars on a 120 dollar tab.
People who sit at my table for four hours and tip 20% on their 15 dollar tab.
People who smell on the subway.
People who think farting in public is funny. It’s not. Especially while I’m trying to eat.
People who think that because I’m gay I’m only a few steps short of being a murderer.
People who stand in my way when I’m trying to do my job.
People who call me pushy, when they are standing in my way while I’m trying to do my job.
People who have decided that my boyfriend can’t stop by the apartment an hour before I get home from work, because he doesn’t want a third roommate. It’s ONE FUCKING night.
Families who stand in the middle of the sidewalk taking up the entire thing preventing anyone else from passing.
Eight year old’s who use the word “Motherfucker”.
“The Director” from Oklahoma who got pissy today when I told him I needed my contract signing money now instead of the end of the month when it was promised. He changed his tune when I suggested I just call the board directly and explain the money was owed since last summer. (Am I sure I want to go back there this summer?)
People who promise to help you and then put you off so long that when they finally tell you they can’t, the situation is ten times worse than if you’d just gone ahead and done it yourself.
People who think sending me a message on Facebook is the same as calling me. IT’S NOT!!!
My roommate who will wash his dishes in the morning but leave the spoon I used in my coffee.
Anyone who can’t follow established norms concerning “personal space.”
Anyone who gets angry that their food isn’t on the table in fifteen minutes. Anything faster and it would be fast food. McDonald’s is around the corner if you want to know about fast food.
People who think it’s my fault their food is taking so long. It’s not!!!!
Kitchen managers who scream at me because I’ve taken dirty dishes to the dish area after we closed. Perhaps it’s just me, but where the fuck are the dirty dishes supposed to go?
Computer programs that were given to you by your boyfriend that only work when he’s around. When I try to use it on my own it pretty much tells me to fuck off.
Boyfriends who don’t leave me a voice-mail telling me good night.
People who call and don’t leave messages.
People who leave messages telling you they need to talk to you, but not about what.
People who says it’s urgent they talk to you when it’s really about gossip that doesn’t concern either of you.
Companies that charge more if you talk to a “real” person in customer service.
People who get to the top of the escalator and stop and then get pissed when you bump into them.
People who work at stores that move at one speed, SUPER SLOW!!!!
Co-workers who are surprised they don’t make more money when all they really do is take orders. Perhaps if you tried talking to your tables you’d make more money.
24 hour deli’s that aren’t always open.
“A” trains that run on the wrong track or even worse don’t run at all.
People who don’t say thank you after they’ve been invited to brunch prepared by your boyfriend.
Especially annoyed at people who don’t say thank you for brunch prepared by your boyfriend who call later to say they forgot to say thank you for being invited into your home and to please thank your roommate as well. But never ONCE mentions thanking my boyfriend who bought all the ingredients and prepared Upside Down French Toast which was fucking incredible.
People who message me on Facebook inviting me to drinks that then act surprised when I don’t respond. My FUCKING phone number is listed on Facebook. Call me if you really want to see me.
Friends from college who are friends on Facebook who want me to join anti-abortion, anti-gay, anti-Obama, anti everything groups. Read my fucking profile, I’m about as far to the left as you can be without falling off the edge of the paper.
People who break bottles outside my window at three in the morning.
Gypsy cab drivers who stop to pick me up when all I’m trying to do is cross the street. I really don’t need a ride down the block to my house.
People who want to chat on AIM at three in the morning. I don’t have 45 minutes for an online chat. If it’s that important call me tomorrow. When I’m awake. After 12.
Now that I’m annoyed I think I should stop.
Things that don’t annoy me:
MY BOYFRIEND!!!
It’s been hard lately to post on a regular basis. I’m spending a lot of time with Adam and it’s hard to stop kissing him long enough to write something. It also doesn’t help that I don’t want him to know the name of the blog. He knows that I write on line but I’d like to keep this a secret so that I can continue to tell you what I think.
Last night he was nice enough to get me into the Defying Inequality benefit concert at the Gershwin Theatre. It was a fund raising event for the Family Equality Council, Empire State Pride Agenda, Equality California, Garden State Equality, and the Vermont Freedom to Marry Task Force.
The show was interesting to say the least, although I personally think it could have used some editing.
It was star studded with Lynda Carter, Jane Folda, Rue McClanahan, and Harvey Fierstien attending. It also included the casts of The Lion King, Wicked, Jersey Boys, Billy Elliot and about 50 others.
That was the problem. They were trying to include everyone in the event and clearly didn’t say no to anyone. So the show ran four + hours. We didn’t get home till almost 1:30 a.m. And this was a school night for Adam. It also seemed like they included a number of people as backups and then didn’t tell them no once the “real” people started to show up. Some of the acts had nothing to do with marriage equality and didn’t really add to the evening. For example this group called “Don’t Quit Your Day Job” did a Broadway Mad Lib. It took about 15 minutes to get the words they needed and then Bebe Neuwerth sang All That Jazz with the new words. Trust me when I say, they could have just let her sing the song straight and everyone in the house would have been happy.
The highlight of the evening for me was Matt Alber. He’s a gay singer who’s song video has been floating around online for the last several weeks. The song he sang was just beautiful and I wasn’t supposed to notice but it caused Adam to get teary eyed. It only made me like him more. Who wants a boyfriend that doesn’t have a heart.
It was a great cause and I had a great time. But next time they should let me direct. I’d pace the show better, tell some people we’d include them next time and cut the running time to 2:30. But I doubt very seriously they’ll ask.
I’ve include the video of Matt Alber’s video of End of the World.
Thursday night rocked.
Last night sucked.
Tonight rocked.
Does that mean Wednesday night will suck. If I call in sick will that be okay or does the sucky shift get transferred to Thursday.
Guess who showed up last night at work? Any guesses.
Yes.
Asshole drunk, cheap, fucking Englishmen. Pissed because I sent them to a fucking gay bar. Whoops. I apologized profusely. Bought one of them a drink and it seems alcohol is a cure all for all things British. They then planted themselves at the bar, rang up another 200 dollar tab and left ten. I can only hope that at some point during their trip someone tells them to stop being such pricks and pay for their good time.
At least I no longer have to worry abouty getting fired because of it.
And it really wouldn’t have been so bad last night, if the whole night hadn’t been sucking already. I was off from the word go and I never got my shit together all night. I barely made 10% of my sales. Barely. Someone must have taken pity on me and tipped extra because I do mean BARELY. Of course I was giving crap service last night. I’m not sure that I would have tipped me last night. And that my friends is the beauty of waiting tables. You don’t really get to have an off night. Of course you can, but then you make a lot less than you are supposed to. And on at least 10 different occasions I’ve had conversations about giving your server the benefit of the doubt. Maybe their dog died. Or their mother was hit by a bus. Or their husband of 10 years just dumped them for a younger man. Or someone stole their wallet on the train. Or they are being evicted. Or they watched a homeless man get hit by a subway on the way to work. Or their doctor just told them they have gonorrhea even though they are in a monogamous relationship. Or perhaps the manager was a dick and yelled at them before the shift started. Or even worse, after the shift started. Or …
You get the idea. When you are a waiter you don’t get the option to call out sick and get sick pay. You show up to work. You get dressed. You sit through pre-shift. You clock in. And you make the best of it. And often I’ve been told that a waiter’s personal problems aren’t my fault. Give me my damn Long Island Tea, ketchup and my fucking cheeseburger NOW. And you are right it’s not your problem. But then of course neither is the genocide in Darfur. Or the AIDS epedimic in Africa. Or the plight of the homeless in the US. Or the ever increasing homeless people on the streets because of the economy. Nope. None of that is your problem. The only thing you want is your fucking cheeseburger, cooked the way you ordered in, in a timely fashion. And don’t tell me how bad your life is because I don’t give a fuck.
In case you can’t tell, this makes me a little crazy. I don’t know a single person who doesn’t sometimes show up to work and have a bad day. Now imagine if tomorrow when you go to work and perhaps have a headache. Or your kid’s been throwing up all night. And life just generally sucks. Your boss tells you that your income is going to be docked because clearly you are not performing up to par. So instead of getting all your pay, he’ll give you only 75% of it. Oh wait. You forgot to send that email? Make that 70%. And the copier isn’t stocked with paper? Now you are down to 50%. And since all of this is your fault, we are going to call your supervisor and complain so that perhaps you will get written up, reprimanded or even fired.
All of this because I don’t give a fuck that the waiter’s having a bad day. I came here to celebrate my getting my toe nails painted bright blue today and clearly that takes priority. Now give me my FUCKING cheeseburger now. NOW.
The moral of this story.
Give the people around you a break. Smile a little more. Say please and thank you. Remember it’s just a cheeseburger. No one dies. It doesn’t cure cancer. There are plenty more where that came from. Just think. If you give that waiter and extra 5%, it might be just enough to pay for his cat’s vet bill and save it’s life.
Sometimes something so small can mean so much.
I almost titled the post: “Maddog’s Rant.” I think I might miss the dog.
I did something I wished I hadn’t done tonight. In the big scheme of things it will probably not be a big issue, but all the way home I’ve been stressed about it. So what is it I did tonight?
I had a lovely group of four Englishmen sitting at my counter tonight. Over the course of the two hours they were there, they racked up a 201.00 dollar check. Toward the end of their time with me they started asking where they should go to listen to live music, preferably something sort of jazzy.
Just so you know this is a big red flag to me. 99.99999 percent of the time, when someone asks where they should go after they leave my restaurant they are good for no more than a 10% tip.
So I was a little bit weary of the question. So I threw out some suggestions. And they asked me to write them down. I was busy at the time so I told them I’d write them down later.
Then they asked for the check. And they hand me the check with the money inside and ask once again for me to write down where they should go.
And so I go to the kitchen.
I open the receipt with the money inside.
And they’ve given me 210.00. Nine dollars on a two hundred fucking dollar check.
Let me repeat that. Nine dollars on a two hundred fucking dollar check.
So I ask a couple of people in the kitchen where I should send four people who only tip nine bucks on a two hundred fucking dollar check.
After much deliberation it was decided I should send them to…
The Cock.
It’s an East Village gay bar. That’s a lot on the sleazy side. A LOT on the sleazy side. So I wrote down directions, walked back out, and gave it to them. Thanked them profusely and walked away.
And now I’m stressed they’ll call and complain tomorrow and I’ll get fired and be unemployed and homeless and miserable.
Will that happen. Not likely. I’ve tried to decide if I actually did anything against restaurant policy. I didn’t give them bad service. I didn’t comment on their tip. I thanked them and told them to be sure and come back. I just perhaps gave them directions to a gay bar instead of a jazz bar.
Now I need to let it go.
What’s done is done and stressing about it, isn’t going to change it.
And I guess the big question is whether I regret doing it.
Would you?
So this my first post on my new and improved blog. Well it is new, I’m just not sure how improved it is.
I stopped blogging more or less three weeks ago. I didn’t really stop so much as go on a hiatus.
As most everyone who’s been reading my blog knows I met a boy on January 5th. We went out on our first date on January 11th. And now it’s February 18th and things are going great. On Saturday, February 14th he officially became my boyfriend. He’d more or less been my boyfriend for a while, but we actually agreed to the term on Saturday.
And this really has nothing to do with the new blog. It just tells you what I’ve been up to.
You are probably wondering why I switched the name of my blog and have left behind Maddog.
There really is only one reason.
I don’t like that so many people I know, know about the blog.
Michelle, Todd, Kelly, and most importantly Chuck all know about Maddog.
And for a long time this was fine. But the more I thought about it the more I realized that I was editing myself because I knew they might be reading.
Especially Chuck.
He reads every day. But never mentions it to me at all. It’s a little disconcerting having someone reading on your blog that you are depressed but not even asking how you are doing while chatting over coffee on Sunday mornings. In fact during the whole month of January, he never once asked me how I was doing. I even tried to chat with him a couple of times to no avail. I tried to discuss how I was feeling about the whole thing with Adam when I was the most freaked out, and he refused to even listen. He more or less let me know that what I had was a luxury problem and that I should just let it go.
It was after this chat that I realized that I needed to change my blog if I was going to continue writing. I need to get back to why I was writing in the first place which is about me, and not about everyone else. I need to be able to discuss the things that are important to my life without editing myself for my friends or readers. I don’t like not talking about things that are important to me just because I’m afraid of how people will react. I didn’t worry about it in the beginning and I’ve decided to stop worrying about it now.
So welcome to the Light Doctor. It sort of a stupid name but I was at a loss as to what it should be and I’d asked a couple of people for advice and this is a mixture of a couple of suggestions. I also didn’t want to spend six weeks trying to decide. I wanted to start writing again. And I knew that if I didn’t I’d never start again.
So here I am. For better or for worse.
Maddog
