QColumn: A Gay In The Life: SP Phone Home
SP Phone Homo
By Steve Prince
“Let me call you back. My phone’s being weird.”
I hung up. I looked at my phone. She looked battered, poor Ivory—that’s what I named my white Blackberry Pearl. Ivory and I’d been through a lot: traveling around the country, arranging hookups, long conversations with friends. I went to press the top left button to retrieve my call history. Nothing. I pressed it again.
On the screen, my phone flashed something I’d never seen before—writing in a non-English language. I pressed the button again and then Ivory made a noise like a gerbil fart.
Uh oh… that couldn’t be good.
And it turned off. On March 10th at 12:36p.m., my poor little blackberry pearl, Ivory, uttered it’s last signal. I’d have to give her a burial.
“Well,” I said aloud, “shit the bed.” Ugh. Great, two days before my 30th birthday and now I had to deal with getting a new phone. I hate dealing with electronics, and electronics don’t seem to like dealing much with me either.
Okay, I thought to myself, when can I get a new phone? Instinctively, I pulled out my phone to check my calendar. Oh wait—I can’t check my calendar. My phone’s dead. Well, I’d check my computer then. Oh wait—my blackberry never connected with my Mac. Tension began swirling into my stomach and suddenly I realized, I don’t know what I’m doing for the rest of the day!
Yes, I’d become one of those people; I’d implanted my life into that phone. I’d scheduled everything into it. My work commitments, school projects, plans with friends. I wouldn’t know when to wipe my ass if it wasn’t for Ivory.
Along with thoughts of panic, thoughts of hope began bubbling up in my brain. It’s OK, I can get a better phone, I can get an iPhone!
I’ve wanted an iPhone for a while, but I’d been hesitant because in the U.S. to have an iPhone means having AT&T as a carrier. Ugh. It’s a long story, but many years ago AT&T took part of my soul that I don’t know if I’ll ever get back. AT&T is where dreams go to die, but still…
It’s an iPhone. Maybe it’d be my birthday present to myself.
I do love that an iPhone would sync flawlessly to my MacBook laptop. So if my phone crashed, I’d at least have a back up of all my information. And I obviously needed a backup, right?
An hour later, I walked out of the Apple store with an iPhone in hand. Hmmm. Why didn’t this feel as good as I’d expected?
24 hours later…
“So how was your week?”
I placed both phones on my therapist’s coffee table.
He looked at me blankly.
“Doctor,” I said, “I don’t know what the fuck to do.”
I told him the saga of the phone drama.
“So basically,” he said after I’d finished with a sigh and flopped back onto his couch, “one month with an iPhone is going to cost you more than just getting a new phone with your old phone company.”
“Yes,” I said.
“And if you kept the iPhone, you’d have to sign a two-year contract,” he continued.
“Yes,” I said.
He waited for a minute. I looked at the floor and noticed that during my phone monologue, the afternoon sun had quietly retreated from the room and begun to set.
“I’m wondering,” he thought aloud.
Uh oh. Usually when my therapist begins with “I’m wondering,” some type of self reflection occurs.
He continued, “I’m wondering what else you did last night…”
“Umm,” I was thrown by the question. “Well,” I said, recounting my night. “I went to work and that’s where the phone drama occurred. I went to the Apple store after work, then I came home. After that, I met my friend Cody for a drink and then, I hooked up with some guy and he fucked the shit outta me.”
The Doctor’s face didn’t flinch.
“So you had sex, ” he said with a nod. “Did you like it?”
“Yeah,” I answered quickly, but then I thought about it more. “Well, actually no I guess I didn’t.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Well,” I said, “I got a bit tipsy with Cody and I knew I couldn’t drive home for a bit. I was going to stay at Cody’s, but then this guy and I started talking. He bought me a drink and soon he was nibbling on my ear at the bar. He took me to his house and I stayed the night.” I paused, figuring out the most concise way to describe the deluge of thoughts flooding my brain. “It wasn’t good at all, actually. He wasn’t that great of a kisser; in fact, he said he wasn’t really into kissing at all. And when we finished, I totally had guilty nut.”
“Guilty nut?” the doctor asked.
“Er…” I explained. “Guilty nut is when you cum and feel bad for doing it. Like last night, there was such a buildup with this guy. I mean, granted, I was tipsy. Still, I seemed so into him, yet when I finally came it was like making myself do it. And afterwards, I just laid there thinking, Well shit, what do I do now? He seemed to be thinking the same thing. It felt very empty.”
“It felt empty?” the doctor asked.
I corrected myself, “I felt empty.”
We sat there for a bit and I noticed the sun all but gone from the office window.
“Does that experience have anything to do with your anxiety over buying a phone?” he asked.
My head cocked to the side like a puppy as I thought about what he’d said.
Does this have anything to do with the phone? And why am I so stressed about this dumb phone thing? The whole thing made me feel neurotic and stupid.
I left the doctor’s office confused. I sat on a street bench to gather my thoughts. Then it hit me… I’m turning 30. All along I thought I was okay with this—and mostly I am—but suddenly I realized that I had to change; and change is change. It’s different and a big part of me, a big part of everyone, doesn’t want to explore the new.
If I did get an iPhone and paid fifty bucks more a month, I’d have to be more responsible with my budget. I’d have to grow up and act more adult. And as I write that, I feel like a silly kid for feeling this way, but I can’t deny my panic. My broken phone, my dearly departed Ivory, was change being forced upon me, just like my inevitable 30th birthday.
The panic explained why I hooked up that night—I wanted to zone out. I use sex to blow off steam—that’s totally normal; we all do. However, last night I’d wanted to avoid my anxiety about turning 30 and apparently the best way was to have some guy shove his cock up my ass. That’s where the guilty nut comes into play. As soon as I came, the anxious feelings about 30 came creeping back. Instead of wanting to fuck my brains out, I’d wanted to fuck my thoughts and emotions out. It didn’t work though. I still had to deal with them afterwards.
As a gay man, sex becomes so connected to validation. What I mean is that where I live in the US, it seems that to be a gay man is to be sexual. Look at the way we’re presented in the media or magazines. Gay men are always so sexualized. It seems instilled in our brains that if you want to be a true gay man you should fuck all the time and be amazing at it.
When I think about this, it makes total sense why I’d seek out sex right before turning 30. If I don’t want to validate myself emotionally, then at least I can validate myself sexually. However there’s a problem with that; sex is always connected to emotion. I know a lot of guys don’t believe that, but I do. I can’t just have sex with someone and feel nothing; I don’t believe sex is ever just sex. Yes, I can hookup, however, I’m always still searching for some type of connection. It might be with my cock instead of my brain or my heart, but I’m still searching in some way.
So, I have to admit—I returned the iPhone. Turning 30 was already a big enough change… small steps. Also, focusing on myself would be much more helpful than worrying about a bill.
I’m writing this article a week after my birthday. I’ve been 30 for a week. So how was it? Well, it was kind of like sex and cumming. Before, I’d experienced all this emotional build up, this tension, excitement and worry, and then… it happened and I was still the same person—I hadn’t changed. Instead, I was the same person who’s always changing. Nothing ever stays the same and neither do I. In fact, I wouldn’t want to stay the same. With 30 comes that gratitude, that gratitude that I’m still searching…
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Years after moving from Oklahoma, Steve Prince is still acclimating to the gay scene in Los Angeles—he’s a slow learner. By trial and error and a lot of sex, his mission is to make the uncomfortable, comfortable. Also it should be known that he is gayer than butt sex.
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Previously, on A Gay In The Life:
The Birds and The Birds
Lyin’, & Twinks, & Bears—Oh My!
Going Public
Christmas in July
Luck Be A Lady Tonight
I Left My Heart In Oklahoma
As Luck Would Have It
Shock & Awe
Blame It On Britney
The Unending Journey
Makin’ Copies
Bullets and Bracelets… and Lube
To Tell The Truth…
Stars Aren’t Blind
The Dark Knight
Come As You Are
A Date?
A Happy Ending
Better Than Nothing
A Man With A Slow Hand
Taking The Long Way
Everybody Knows
Wake Me Up, Before Ya Go-Go
Definition
The Best
The Upper Hand
Hit Me With Your Best Shot
2000-Date
Dick The Halls
The Queer Dear
A Night At The Museum
A Conversation
I’m Just A Girl Who Can’t Say No
Change The Way You Feel
Kissing A Fool
Leo The Lamb
The Elephant In The Room
Zuckerman’s Famous Pig
A Birthday Surprise
The Sleepover-er
