Bad Birthday Experiences

With my next birthday rapidly approaching, I think about how much I loathe the stupid day. It's not that I'm upset at growing a year older. I just have never enjoyed celebrating birthdays. They're just normal days and when people make a big deal out of it, it increases the possibility of the day becoming shitty. It's like when my mother plans a vacation itinerary and the whole vacation is ruined if something doesn't go according to plan. One of the worst birthday experiences happened right here in Chicago, three years ago.

It was my first year in Chicago and I didn't know a lot of people, so one of my friends dragged me out to one of the gay bars with him. He told me that it was to celebrate my birthday, but he really wanted to flirt with his security guard boy toy while his boyfriend (the bartender) worked behind the bar. Queens enjoy a certain element of danger in their lives and I can never understand why that is. I'd worked a double shift the day before and I was extremely tired. I just wanted to lay in bed all day and watch Mormon porn. I am a man of simple tastes.

At the time, I hadn't fully grown into the tough and centered queer that I am now. It was hard for me to stand up to my friend, who was obviously using me to live out his sick soap opera fantasy of sexing two men who work at the same place without either of them knowing. He was doing it all wrong, but I didn't tell him. When his boyfriend wised up about what was going on (after loosening my tongue with a few shots of Jagermeister), my friend dragged me away to another bar to avoid confrontation.

The second bar featured exotic dancers and they just happened to be short one guy that night. It didn't take long for my friend to rip his clothes off and volunteer because he was tanked and he enjoyed showing off his body. I enjoy showing off my body, but I do it in a classy way. I just don't disrobe in the middle of the dance floor like a $.35 hooker. The club owner didn't like his underwear and asked my friend to find another pair. He remembered from a conversation we'd had earlier that I was wearing a thong because I was doing laundry earlier in the day. Before I knew it, I was forced into a room where two large men took my pants off and stole my thong. I'm pretty sure that it's illegal to hold someone down while another guy rips someone off for their sexy underwear.

I went home in tears while my friend, who is no longer my friend, danced on a box with money stuffed in my thong. The sad part is that this would have been the second birthday where I'd go home crying and without underwear. Unfortunately, there's no gay school where they teach you how to cope with such extreme forms of drama. This was one of the necessary experiences that helped me develop a thicker skin when it comes to my personal happiness.

This year I'm going to Dollywood for my birthday.