NYC Trip

I wrote a post a few days ago about my Easter and how I had an awesome time but I never got around to publishing it. Bradley and I met up with his family in NYC because his older brother was performing at this recital for his school. His brother is just as handsome as Bradley is, plus he can play the guitar like no other, I think there may have even been a few times when I contemplated throwing my underwear at him as he performed! Easter Sunday itself was also pretty awesome. I guess I made a decent impression on the boyfriend’s fam in Mexico, because they treated me like I had always been a part of their Easter traditions.

I had an awesome weekend, but it did little to appease this beast in me that has been growing for quite awhile. I think I may be one of those angry gays that freaks the fuck out when confronted with a narrow mind. There was a time when I could let ANYTHING roll off my back. A guy could say anything or do anything to me, and I could walk away and feel like I achieved some kind of moral victory. I can’t really do that anymore. All it takes is for somebody to look at me wrong and I am in their face ready to snap them in half!

On Monday Bradley and I went to go visit a friend of mine, Kyle, on Long Island in this place called Babylon. We were all walking down the street and I was absentmindedly holding Brad’s hand and leaning my head on his shoulder as we went. It was a good afternoon following an amazing weekend. But it all had to be ruined when this loser with is two friends decided to call us fags as we walked by them. It stopped me dead in my tracks, and I only had one thought, “I am going to make this fucker bleed!”

I walked up to the guys and I asked them which on of them called me a fag. The douche on the left took the credit, so after a quick jab to his face I kicked him as hard as I could right in the chest! He fell on his ass gasping for air that took more than a couple of seconds to come back to him. Once he’d fully recovered I asked him to say it again. He kind of just sat their on the floor looking at his friends and then back at me and all of a sudden I was angry all over again. I jumped on his chest and started punching him repeatedly. The second I drew blood from his country bumpkin ugly ass face, I felt better.

I wasn’t really worried that his friends were going to jump in because I had Bradley and Kyle right behind me. While I was positive that neither of them was okay with what I was doing, they wouldn’t let either of those losers touch me. I got up and we walked away. They obviously wanted me to explain what just went down and why, but I didn’t want to talk about it. Mostly because I wasn’t really sure why I reacted the way I did, but also because maybe I was enjoying the feeling of what had gone down.

So here I am 3 days later still trying to figure stuff out. But the longer I have to reflect on what I did, the more I am okay with it. Honestly, a person can have a conversation with me about ANYTHING, and I will have a calm and cogent discussion on whatever it is. But the second somebody thinks they can belittle me with my sexuality, then I am going to show them exactly how small I can make them feel with my fists! I am sick to death of people making me feel like I am less of a man than I actually am. I get that there are people all over the world who have to deal with the same issues, and they are unable to do anything about it. There are a million reasons why they take it, from the fact that they have to because of the society they live in, to the simple fact that they have bullies that are bigger and stronger than they are. But I live in a free country and I am a trained fighter so being bigger and stronger means little to nothing for me, so if somebody has something to say, they are just going to have to deal with the consequences of their words.