Living Proof

Non-coincidently, this story also took place in October. It was the year 2002, and my girlfriend and I went to go to this bed and breakfast in Windham, NY. The foliage was just gorgeous and it was the perfect time to escape the busyness of the city. We only planned to go for the weekend, so we left on Friday morning and got there by mid-afternoon. The bed & breakfast was this ‘gay friendly’ establishment that encouraged people of all kinds to visit. This nice lady and her life partner owned it. When we drove up to the house, it was this beautiful and charming white colonial, with black shutters. There was a candle lit in every window which gave it a warm feeling. It was overcast that day, a little darker outside than usual. When we got out of the car, we noticed that there were men working on one part of the house to add on another addition. (This was a detail they failed to mention.) Madelene and I walked into the home, and we were greeted by the owner’s entire family. They all in

In October of 1987, I met a girl named Cheryl in school. We rode the bus together when I lived in upstate New York. We had a lot of the same interests. We had four wheel motorcycles, traveled through the Appalachian trails and hung out with the same friends. We always gravitated to the nearby firehouse parking lot to play kickball with the other kids. She always invited me over, but her house was up the road on top of this huge hill. It looked spooky. One day I took her up on her offer. She invited me to come over after school. I could get off the bus with her instead of my usual stop. My mother kept begging me not to go there. I didn’t know why she didn’t like Cheryl, but she kept saying, “It’s not that I don’t like her, just don’t go there!” I never knew why my mother kept insisting me not to visit my friend. Curiosity got the best of me of course, and I ended up getting off at her stop. I remember looking straight up at a desolate hill full of overgrown grass that probably has never

It’s always nice when your parents think of you. It’s great when they get you little trinkets of whatever- just because they thought of you. Well, in my case, it’s like a bomb exploded. My father seems to go overboard with little trinkets, and buys the whole warehouse full of whatever it is, so he doesn’t run out. I mean, you can literally back a truck up to the house and poor all the little knickknacks inside. “Deb! Look wha I gotchya!” I come running over, noticing there were these really cool tiny lights that shine a tint of purple—like those new Mercedes do. I use it to read a menu in a restaurant or bar when it’s too dark inside. Great! Well he bought 500 of them. “Get dat’ ding’ right dare’!” It was a box lying in the back of his pick up. I grabbed it and brought it inside. When I opened it, I noticed he bought the entire stock of those flashlights that need no batteries. You literally have to shake them up and down until you’re out of breath. How long does the light last for,

To think that my worst fear has come to reality. I ran out of Purell hand sanitizer. There’s no turning back, except for that trip to the drug store to purchase more. My friend advises me I should stock up on the BJ family size—which is the size of a keg of beer. I’m not that obsessed, but I’m getting there. I keep trying to squeeze out the last drops of remaining Purell that was stuck to the sides of the bottle. *Spsssssssssssss! Spsssssssssss!* is all that you hear coming from my office. *Spsssssssssssss! Spsssssssssss!* again, trying to make sure there’s absolutely none left. OCD isn’t just trying to be pathetically clean all the time. It’s other things as well. For instance, what do you think of someone who’s super super superstitious? Think about it. “Step on a crack, break your mama’s back.” (Those of you who have sent the movie, “ As Good as It Gets ”, shows Jack Nicholson hopping through sidewalks, avoiding any crack to be seen. When he sees a cobblestone sid

There are definitely stereotypes to being a Christian, as well as stereotypes for being a homosexual. First of all, for the ‘typical Christian church-going individual’, you have this image of a married woman or man, who’s living the American dream. A nice big house with a white picket fence, a few kids and probably a dog and a cat. It’s a nice image actually. Is it perfect for everyone? No. Each person sets their goals and dreams differently to what they truly want out of life. Some don’t reach their goal, and some do. The stereotypes for the homosexual are simple. They seem to set the stage for promiscuity. This goes for all homosexuals, in the ‘extreme Christian’s’ view. We’re all different. Even heterosexuals can be promiscuous, as well as Church goers. Relationships and a loving union are much different than a person being promiscuous. The other day, I was going through a bout of depression. I thought, “So many people think I’m weak in faith, because I love someone of the same gend

Late nights staying up talking on the phone, you always had this talent to put my heart at ease. You anticipated the worst, not expecting me to laugh, but you somehow put that smile back on my face—making me giggle. Your clichés were endless. I used to call you on them, telling you, “STOP ALREADY!!!” But, I honestly loved every single corny cliché that came out of your mouth. It made me laugh, and it also made sense to every situation we were going through. You always sensed when I was down. You would come over with a handful of gifts. The thoughtfulness was overwhelming. Did I even deserve this? You brought me over a bottle of wine or a bouquet of Heinekens. How adorable was that? I never knew they made bouquets of beer! You knew I loved truffles. You made sure I had my stock of them. Cards, poems and little sentimental trinkets are still saved. The crystal owl still sits on my dresser. You knew that I had an obsession with owls and went out of your way to get that for me. Countless

As most of you know, my love for alcohol goes way beyond the limits of moderation. It’s not my fault, it’s my parents. Yes, I’m blaming everything on my parents. My psychiatrist said so. Growing up in my Italian household, we always had red table wine with dinner, and scotch and brandy to relieve pain that any good dose of ibuprofen couldn’t handle. Tooth ache? Take a shot of scotch! Period cramps? Take a shot of brandy! Gas pain? Drink some beer to get the bubbles out of your chest! Feeling down? Have a martini to lift your ‘spirits’. Now granted, I wasn’t allowed to drink during my teen years, however sneaking booze in my bedroom had become a fine art. I mastered the tip-toeing through the tulips over to the dry bar-- raiding any booze I could dowse into my iced-tea. I usually had one of my best friends waiting in my bedroom to join me. Who wants to drink alone? One night, my two friends came over. We were fifteen years old at the time. We got a hold of a six pack of beer and a few o

Pushing my limits to the extreme end of the “icky” side, I’m going to direct your attention over to my gynecologist’s appointment—so just beware. It may get explicit. “X” out if you are easily offended by…details. As you all know and have heard, my OCD kicks up big time during the colder months. People are getting sick, catching colds and developing the flu. My stock in Purell is my safety blanket. The one thing I dread most of all, is walking into a medical/family doctor’s office. That’s where the big bugs are. I try to stay far away, unless I’m practically on my deathbed. Then they usually end up hauling my butt to the emergency room, because of my stubborn ways—and that’s even a hundred times worse than any doc’s office. Anyway, you wouldn’t think going to the gynecologist would be alarming, as far as germs go. I never thought so. I sat in the waiting room, flipping through a magazine. And you know how much I rant about not touching those damn things, because of germs. But this isn

It’s that time of the year again where I’m hesitant to touch any doorknob with my hand, or read any magazine that’s in my doctor's office. This is a job for Purell. Flu shots will be available soon, and out the door I go to get myself immune to whatever lurks outside my surroundings, trying to keep me in bed. Hmm. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea. But the thought of getting sick is just traumatizing for me. I become a huge needy baby. My girlfriend becomes this stressed out, worn out, been there & done it type of nurse. That poor girl has her hands full! The other night Amy and I went out to the bar. We drank a few drafts and then headed out to the diner to sober up. Amy gave me the fit of the giggles so bad, that I had to run into the ladies’ room to get my composure. I walked back out, sat down in my booth and tried to remain calm. Didn’t work. I start chuckling all over again. An older lady who was all alone came up to us. “I don’t mean to bother you, but your laughter mad

There are many people, as you know, see me as an immoral woman who claims the Lord as her Savior. “How can she be a Christian, yet write posts about immoral issues and live a life of a lesbian?” For the majority of Christians out there, it’s understandable to think this way. For truly faithful people who live in Christ, in my opinion, would think differently. I want to share a story from the bible with you that may have you thinking, “Hmm, it’s all about faith then!” “Jesus Anointed by a Sinful Woman” One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to come to his home for a meal, so Jesus accepted the invitation and sat down to eat. A certain immoral woman heard he was there and brought a beautiful jar filled with expensive perfume. Then she knelt behind him at his feet, weeping. Her tears fell on his feet, and she wiped them off with her hair. Then she kept kissing his feet and putting perfume on them. When the Pharisee who was the host saw what was happening and who the woman was, he said to himsel

Okay, so this is looking quite like the 'Dear Abby' sort of blog now. I’m not sure what transpired between a month ago till now, but it’s different, so I’m going with it. I have received numerous emails with questions that should be answered by a professional, but I’m more than willing to give my two cents, and even happier that my readers are willing to add theirs. I think it’s terrific that these people who are emailing me not only get a response from me, but they get to hear different point of views through your comments. I don’t comment anymore, because I already gave my opinion in the blog. (Just in case some of you were wondering why I’m left out in the comment section.) I just don’t want to overstep my boundaries and keep adding to the ‘advice’. Also, please keep in mind that I have permission from these people to blog about it. In fact, a few of them didn’t care if I ‘named names’… I’m not doing that though. Names and locations have been changed to protect the guilty. M

Now here’s a situation that you all may have heard of before. Bob has been dating this wonderful woman named Leslie for five years now. They both live in NYC. They plan on getting married next year with the hopes of having children and growing old together. Their relationship has its moments with little bumps of turbulences, but I think it’s safe to say that’s normal for anyone who’s been in a long term to experience that. Bob says he loves Leslie with all his heart. He doesn’t want to marry anyone else, however, Bob has something he’s been wanting to do. He wants to invite a third party into the bedroom to spice things up a bit. He says the sex is good with his partner, but it tends to gets a little mundane now and then. Bob also states that sometimes, Leslie isn’t interested in sex that much. Bob wants it 4-5 times per week, and Leslie likes her 1-2 times per week. Leslie isn’t a lesbian, nor is she bi-sexual. She is head over heals in love with Bob. In fact, she’ll just about do any

You can blame it on the full moon, or you could just say that a lot of people are experiencing similar situations. I received a few emails regarding the exact same topic. I’m not going to display names out of respect and privacy. One lady said I could use her situation for a post, so I’m taking this opportunity, only because there were a few more emails that trickled in after hers with the same exact thing. Believe me, I’m not an expert on relationships or being a big ole dyke here. I’m just me. I love my partner, I’m comfortable being who I am, and I respect those who have their own set of values and personal preferences. So with that, please take whatever advice or opinion I give you with a grain of salt. I’m not a doctor nor a psychologist—but I do see one every week! (Maybe that gives me some sort of credit?) Let’s talk about Mrs. Smith. What?... Too general of a name for you? Deal with it. So, Mrs. Smith emails me. She states that she has been married to her husband for over twen

We’re down to nuts and berries folks! Okay, so last month is was the big ole spinach recall. One person died and two hundred people got sick. Fine. It’s over with—it’s off the shelves. Now in the news, beef gets recalled. No ground beef! No burgers! No steaks! Get them off your grill! Okay, so we’ll stick to chicken, fish and salads. Nothing’s safe. I walked through the grocery store yesterday with Amy trying to find something good to eat for dinner. She wanted to get rice milk. Come on! Get the real stuff. Maybe I should have taken her advice hearing that milk can now have the same strain of e-coli bacteria. What is going on with our food and beverages? Our cows are pissed off! Salad recall again! Green leafy salad was recalled and said it was from the irrigation water. It’s spreading the same e-coli bacteria. It was also reported that the juice from canned carrots was contaminated. Who drinks the juice of canned carrots? Who even likes canned ca

Please visit my friend's blog on his Christian views upon homosexuality and the guilt that goes along with it. Click here to visit Ken!

This is a video of a woman singing loudly while listening to her iPod--not realizing anyone else could hear her. Her daughters video taped this, as onlookers watched in hysterics! Too funny. Gotta watch this! Enjoy your weekend everyone!

So I have developed some new readership, which I appreciate—courtesy of Dr. John . I received an email asking if my lifestyle defines me. No. I started this blog to encourage gays and lesbians to be comfortable with who they are. I wanted the ‘guilt and shame’ of being gay and being close to God at the same time to be relieved. But honestly, it was to brush up on my writing as well. I have a long way to go! Now that I have readers who are 50% straight and 50% gay, I want to share part of my past with you. Even though I’ve always known I was attracted to women, I dated guys left and right. None of them lasted. I would usually date one guy for about two weeks, get bored, and then then move on. Sometimes, I would just date guys to cover up anyone’s assumption of my homosexuality ---or desire to be. Then there was him—a gorgeous middle-eastern man with big brown eyes, thick short black hair with the whitest smile you could ever imagine. I fell in love with him instantly. We were at a frien