BERGDORF GOODMAN

I never thought I’d be so happy to get a purple bag until I shopped at Bergdorf Goodman. 

I’ve heard stories about this New Yorker paradise - where everything is manicured to perfection and the shopping is just beyond…and never believed it until I went a couple years ago. Everything they say about Bergdorfs is true… having money doesn’t suck, I’m sorry to break the news to you guys. 

The reason I am writing about Bergdorf Goodman (not an advertisement post, trust me) is because I was just there today and, as always, had a grand time. 

I went to meet a friend for lunch but it fell through so I just wandered the rooms alone in my dads old barbour coat pretending to be a fellow New York elite. It was fun - felt like I was on Gossip Girl, not going to lie. But yeah, i ended up buying a nice sterling silver frame to actually replace the frame thats holding the picture of the picture shown on this blog. Thought it would be nice to put that in a nice frame…since its the only picture of my entire family where we are 1-all together and 2-happy to be together. Gotta love WASPs can’t find a picture of us without at least half of us fake smiling in the picture and a bloody mary behind our backs to try to get through the day. 

So I mentioned this and actually showed the “Am I Right, Dad?” icon to the sales woman and we got to talking and five minutes later we obviously became best friends. Like we compared our astrological signs and talked about Washington etc… Idk what it is but middle aged wealthy white women love me. I think they think I’d be the perfect man for their daughter… which i would be. Im white, educated, waspy, adorable, endearing and gay (so non threatening) although they never want to admit that i’m gay but i know deep down that i am. I get off topic a lot as you know… im kind of the worst… anyway we spoke about this blog and she mentioned the possibility of having the book (if and when this gets published) at Bergdorf Goodman. The gay in me basically had a seizure as well as the WASP in me. I felt like I was being called back to the mothership. it was a miraculous moment. so hopefully you all will keep reading so my dream of selling a book at bergdorfs will come true. I mean who doesnt want to be party of the Bergdorf Gooman business, am i right, dad? 

Accidents lead to Truth… apparently

Who knew getting your thumb locked in the trunk of your moms BMW would lead your father telling you and your sister about your mothers first marriage? Not I. 

Figured I should just throw the ending out there first cause I have no idea how else to build up to that shocking end. 

Every Sunday I would have brunch with my father and sister. This particular Sunday after returning to my dads condo in Dupont (yes, he lived in a condo 4 blocks from the townhouse i grew up in Dupont… we are a very close family) we were getting things out of the trunk of the car and my dad shut the trunk shut… not knowing my thumb was in the way. 

Yeah… it fucking hurt like the devil’s dick in a mousetrap (i dont know why i decided to use that simile but yeah, it fucking hurt). No worries my thumb didnt come off or anything- I was young enough that my small hands just were jammed between the lock and trunk. But luckily BMW makes their trunks automatically lock so it only took about 3 min with my thumb in there for my dad to unlock it. 

Afterwards we went up to his place and he put my thumb on ice.. I don’t know why he thought this was a good idea to bring up my mother’s first marriage or what made him even think to let it slip but he said “Oh fucking Christ… Bill wouldn’t have let this happen.” Something really odd cause my mom was married about 12 years prior to my birth so it wasn’t even a recent marriage or anything. Then naturally my sister and I asked who Bill was. 

My father swore us to promise we wouldn’t tell mom when she picked us up later (but thanks to the always trustworthy legal tool kids are afforded at a young age..the crossing of our fingers..allowed us to tell our mom right after we left). 

She couldn’t have cared less if we knew she was married before but being in a Catholic school she made sure she told us she had it annulled. No divorce for her. My mom definitely has some swag - brushed off her kids finding out she was married before like it was nothing… which it was…. nothing..

funny enough I played her first husbands son in a CYO basketball game. Playing him knowing that his father used to be married to my mother 12 years ago and he had no idea— made me play better defense..not going to lie. I have no idea why- I probably thought I had a intellectual edge over him.. you know being 11 years old and all. Washington is that small and is full of secrets. xoxo, am i right, dad? (that was a gossip girl reference for all of those who dont know pop culture) 

Grindr, and Tinder, and Bears… oh my!

So like every other millennial i need constant gratification and acceptance nearly all the time… including when it comes to dating.  Now I have been struggling whether I’m thankful or not to be in the age of the “app” opposed to be in the time of my parents where they had no internet and cell phones much less apps for dating…. 

I literally have no clue how people met let alone dated back in the 90s (and thousands of years before dating apps)…maybe thats sad and I’m a total millennial kid but hey, at least I’m airing out my thoughts for the public trying to grasp why dating is so hard…especially with all these helpful tools like grindr and tinder. 

Now every gay …well, everyone in their 20’s has heard of both grindr and tinder. And every gay has had at least had or flirted with the idea of grindr. Grindr is probably the most addicting and time consuming app I have ever come across. But behind every time consuming social networking app comes a great flaw…the people on them. 

Ive been on dates from both apps— i mean, i’m totally down to find “the one” and then just brunch till “death do us part.” I’d be one happy WASP. So i try to put myself out there…grindr, tinder, and okcupid. Not much luck obviously since I’m writing about it now but i’ve been on dates and ultimately I always fuck it up—- that whole Taylor Swift thing was not a joke… i totally jump the gun and guys weirdly enough don’t respond to talking about being boyfriends on a first date…i know, weird. 

Now for the bad experiences…. Even with pictures, bios and physical descriptions there is one thing the dating app will never be able to fix, the voice… 

Now, I dont know about other guys or girls for that matter, but the voice is a very big turn on… call me a homophobe if you want but i dont want to date a “Jack” from Will and Grace and I don’t wanna date a guy who can’t speak english well, or a dude who sounds like he just skinned a cat before meeting up for coffee. And yeah.. I’ve had all three of those guys show up for a drink- and it was awkward. I’m down to kiss as many frogs as long as I find the bro of my dreams, am I right, dad?

Therapists 2, 3, 4, and 5 …maybe more?

Wow I didn’t think I was that fucked up… but now seeing this Cambria (body) font with all these numbers its making me reflect.. who knew a font could do that to a kid? But to be fair to me and these professionals – I have only seen most of these therapist for like one or two sessions. Ok I have a lot of daddy issues- if you couldn’t tell by the title or these posts.. but hey at least im owning up to my shit.

Sooo Im just going to skip all of these Therapists and get right to the dirt. Those therapists will have their own stories, don’t worry—- I want to get into the real dirt I have on myself…. Group therapy.

I saw a recent episode of GIRLS and it reminded me my time in group. After my father passed away (btw not ready to tell you all how it happened/what happened during the time leading up to it yet… totes lifetime movie and that’s just a deeper kind of blog than what I’m writing) … I seeked professional help in Washington DC with a  great therapist who helped me with many breakthroughs. With my dad, me growing up, insecurities, boys – you name the white problem I had and I got through it… or to be honest, at least aware of my white people problems and dealing with them currently. So I have therapy once a week once I moved back to DC for about 8 months then had that plus group therapy once a week. My therapist said I had PTSD from what I dealt with my father… I know, a bit dramatic but his words, not mine. So I was totally game for some group action, I meant what gay isn’t?

This group was comprised of 3 other gay dudes in their twenties. One of the guys didn’t show up to basically any sessions (thank god, couldn’t understand a word he was saying plus he wasn’t that cute so I couldn’t even distract myself when he was talking) —- I eventually convinced the others to kick him out of our group—- he would never show up anyway, so I’m not the bad guy here. The other two… are both great guys. One of them I actually went on a date with 6 months before our first group session so that was a fun coincidence (told ya Washington gay scene was small).  But now we are close buddies and we helped each other with our white boy/daddy issues. We would lunch, drive around in the range and talk about boys- I don’t think we were supposed to hang out and drink outside of group but…whatever, my bad. 

But yeah- back to the group…. It was basically white boys complaining about buying a place or law school stress or me saying I don’t want a job… so you can imagine the obnoxiousness of the problems we discussed. I mean don’t get me wrong, I definitely threw down the “my dad is dead” card once or twice to gain respect in the group cause I think they thought I was just there to talk about my spur of the moment trip to Europe when I actually had PTSD – yeah brought back that therapy term and threw in their face. If gay group therapy were like the hunger games, I’d definitely be Katniss…except with a bow and arrow I would have my dead dead and PTSD to trump the others.  I like to think group therapy really helped me in a very mature responsible way in dealing with my dad’s passing, am I right, dad?

(Hopefully you all know I’m joking… I’m not a therapy group monster- just a champion of white people problems)

THERAPY (*Therapist 1)

Therapy to most people conjures up a lot of negative connotations, but for me as well as anyone else in Washington you know it’s the must have accessory. Growing up in Washington is hard and I can honestly tell you that all of my dear DC friends have had at least 1, if not 2 therapists during their time in Washington. It’s a stressful town-especially being a kid in such an adult city.

I remember my first therapist (yes, there are a slue of them), I was in my senior year of high school and I was crazy depressed. Probably the deepest saddest time in my life- not to over dramatize shit but it was hard. I went to a Catholic Military High School in Washington, DC (you all know what school…) and I was freaking out about applying to colleges… my father made me apply to … I don’t wanna say how many…. Ok… 22 schools. I know, insane.  So with the pressures of getting into an ivy, fighting my homosexual urges, and dealing with normal private high school bullshit in DC plus the added family drama which never seems to disappear you can see why I was depressed.

I would literally just leave after first period, grab an old black cashmere sweater my dad just threw at me cause it “didn’t fit him” and I know what that meant… the sweater was a large and  I think he was trying to make a point to me to loose weight in a very glamorous fashion. Fuck it, it’s a comfy brooks brothers cashmere sweater, so I rocked that sweater. Grabbed that after homeroom, and hopped into my dark green handmedown land rover discovery my mom gave to me and would literally just drive around the monuments blasting top 40 music.

My high school didn’t like that… so I got in school suspension (I know, im such a rebel) and made me seek counseling because I was a “golden boy” of my high school so they let a lot of my absences go off record.  So I go to this South American therapist (I don’t want to say Mexican and be called racist so lets just say South American and be “PC”).

He was great… couldn’t understand a word he was saying. There is one session that I will never forget though. He asked me if I was interested in men or women… I was so nervous and not ready to come out so I said “women.” He then asked me to picture the hottest woman I could think of so I said “Angelina Jolie.” And it was all about approaching people and confidence blah blah blah but that session was definitely an act that deserved an oscar… I meant it isn’t that hard to be attracted to Angelina Jolie… I mean she is pretty hot, am I right dad?

*Note the title THERAPY (Therapist 1)—- Therapists 2,3,4 will be mentioned soon. Stay tuned 

D.C. - An introduction to the most powerful city in the world

I am a pretty rare breed in Washington. I am a fourth generation Washingtonian, and I was actually born in the same hospital as my father in Foggy Bottom (which is now luxury condominiums… surprise, surprise). My mom even grew up right outside the district in Silver Spring. So i hope my opinion about Washington D.C. carries some weight with you guys. 

Growing up in Dupont Circle (16th and Corcoran) I have seen a lot of change, even within the past 5 years. When I was in high school i wasn’t allowed to cross 15th street…now 14th street is the most expensive place to live in DC.  Real estate in the district has been booming and DC is quickly becoming the most expensive city to live in the United States. 

Growing up in Washington has definitely been an interesting experience and with growing up there you also attain certain problems. I dont know one friend who grew up in Washington (proper) who hasn’t had at least one therapist, had an image problem, pressured to apply to an ivy, went to private school, and be presented as “perfect” and put together for your peers.  Welcome to Washington.  

Its basically the worst aspects of LA and NYC put into one small little powerful city, DC. I can’t tell you how many other kids that grew up in DC (even on my block surprisngly) that agree that this idea of perfection permeates beyond just the parents idea of themselves onto their children. An interesting fact that I came across that has never left me are these 3 top rankings DC has… Most fit city, smartest city (most PHDs per capita), and highest alcohol consumption per capita. It also has the biggest wealth gap in the country. That pretty much sums up Washington for you. 

Dont worry- I’ll write more on DC, its just so much to bitch about its hard to compile it so neat and tidy for a tumblr post. You can see I struggle immensely with my love/hate relationship with Washington. But what true love affair isn’t complicated, am i right, dad?

#boycrazy

so i guess these days i would be conisdered coming out of the closet pretty late- maybe even back in my day (a couple years ago) I came out my Junior year in college and just kept coming out to different circles of friends and family members since the beginning of my Junior year. It worked for me to be honest- i couldnt do a whole grand coming out extravaganza, not my style. 

Ever since then i have been deemed by my best friends as “boy crazy” - which is true… i love dudes. Whats not to like? They are hot, inconsiderate, oblivious and good kissers … all of the qualities that make me swoon. 

But I’ve been a lot better for not falling for guys right off the bat and basically stalking them … I mean dont get me wrong, I still get defriended and ignored by dudes still but its at a much lower rate. I come on “strong” which i think could be a good thing…. my mom thinks I’m a catch, i dont know why they dont think so either…. The worst part of it all is that I’m not even that interested in the guys im throwing myself at. There is probably some destructive psycho-analytical thing you can pull from that but at least it doesnt hurt when dudes like ignore the fuck out of me. 

To be fair if I’m realizing the crazy is coming on I tell guys that i will come off strong the first week and then i’ll cool down. I’m basically Taylor Swift. Totes boy crazy. Eh at least i know my problem with dating and working on it…gotta start somewhere, am i right, dad? 

FLIGHT RISK

FLIGHT RISK – me

Like any good Washingtonian’s story starts off with…. I was at brunch with a bunch of friends and friends of friends and I happened to sit next to this really cool girl, Ashley.

We instantly hit it off, in most part to the mimosas and the fact we had mutual friends obviously and we are both a hoot. We were talking and she mentioned she was going on a big Euro Trip—- Frankfurt, Paris, Barcelona and Lisbon in two weeks. We got pretty buzzed and she asked me if I wanted to join- knowing that I was unemployed. So obviously I said yes.

She was going to Octoberfest and I naively asked if Vampire Weekend was playing and was quickly corrected that it was a beerfest.. but I don’t care, I love my vampire weekend and im sure it would have been a lot better if they had performed. She offered to meet her and her friends Claire and Ann in Germany and continue on their adventure- instead I decided to go to Paris alone for a day and meet up with them at the same hostel a day later.

You should all know I do things on a whim —- I literally purchased my ticket to Paris the week before my flight to meet up with a girl I met at brunch and two random girls from UNC. So that’s safe and normal, right? I thought so. Turns out these girls are awesome and we had a killer time in Paris, Barcelona, and Lisbon.

We have a bunch of fun, typical cliché eurotrip stories of being drunk by the Eiffel tower, or me confronting a mugger on las ramblas in Barcelona (successfully got back my iphone which I realize now sober I could have been stabbed and left for dead in that back alley at 4 am but whatever, it’s a 5S and just got it), or just eating a ton of great seafood and drinking a ton of wine in Lisbon.

Don’t worry- ill post our cute group pics at the end of this post. After Lisbon I decided to continue my trip in Europe- book my ticket to London the night before everyone else was heading back to the states and my hostel in Bloomsbury. Never been so independent in my life- and yes London is the easiest city to travel alone cause, you know, they speak English and all. 

Had  a great time in London, hung out with new friends and totally damaged my account with my random trip to Europe ——like really damaged my account… like the equilavent of buying a kia and driving it off a cliff damaged, amount. So a lot. Eh, I got a ton of presents for my mom, sister and her fiancé and myself obviously. Actually got a scarf at the flagship Burberry store and they were crazy nice.

They gave me lattes and champagne and actually hung out with two middle-aged fancy black ladies who were crazy stupid nice to me and we just drank but then they got kicked out of Burberry cause they were actually a bit drunk so then there I was just sitting drinking alone in Burberry. Depressing, right? Eh got some cool shit and free champagne and also made great friends through this off the cuff trip to Europe-so all in all a great time. Travel if you have the means, am I right dad? 

Pic of the travel gang below - look how cute we are…i can’t believe none of us were kidnapped

Flight Risk

ACHTUNG!

My junior year in college was the best year of college I have ever had, next to my senior year and my freshman year —-so my sophomore year was shit. Junior year I came out to my friends, had a radio show called “The Morning Burrito” and was part of a cycling team, ACHTUNG! (that’s the name ).

If you know anyone who went to IU or know anything about cycling you know that Little 500 is what defines Indiana University (next to Kinsey institute, the music school, the business school, the liberal atmosphere and whatever a bunch of stuff I guess now that I’m listing them) But Little 5 is a big deal on campus.

Little 500 is a cycling event that happens every year around the end of April. 33 teams I believe compete on a track – a relay of sorts. Each team consists of 4 cyclists but most teams have 5-6 cyclists on them which are known as the alternate riders (which I was ;) ). There is a huge culture to Little 500 which I can’t even delve into within just one post. Watch a documentary that’s coming out so you get the gist of how intense this shit is. Click here : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lNUQdXGOglk

Or better yet watch the CLASSIC movie staring Dennis Quaid “Breaking Away.” Which just sums up perfectly what it is…. Obviously more of a time commitment but, hey, it’s a classic! So fucking watch it and educate yourself.

So I was waiting for my friends to come down from their dorm room and I saw there was an info packet about joining a cycling team and they were taking so long to come down that I picked it up, read it, and actually contacted the Little 500 people and they automatically got me in touch with 3 teams to try out for them. The first and last team I tried out for was ACHTUNG!

ACHTUNG! Is one of the few independent teams in Little 500- most others are dorms, or more common, Greek houses (which surprise, surprise I was not in one). Love being a GDI (god damn independent).

So when I tried out I was pretty awkward, obviously—-I was at the SRSC (our big gym) not wearing the proper cycling shorts (so just gym shorts) and cycled with the Captain, Nick. My ass hurt so much cause I had no padding-so if any of you take a spin class or cycle, please get the correct shorts …. You’ll thank me.

After surviving the work out Nick offered for me to be part of the team and I was thrilled. Me, a college athlete- who knew!?

After that we cycled probably 4-6 times a week and then did two-a-days and had team dinners. I wasn’t part of a frat but this was probably the closest thing I had to relate to one. It was a great experience and have great memories sharing stories while we cycled-me basically passing out while they sped off into the country side and we crazy in shape- but it was a great kick starter for me.

So me, being the proud self that I was sent an email to my father explaining I got onto a Little 5 team called Achtung!, which means “watch out in German” – my father simply responded with a single sentence. “Achtung actually means caution, or warning in German.” That’s how I found out my father spoke pretty good German. Yep… so that’s neat.

The whole cycling experience was great – I even had to shave my legs. After shaving my legs I have never been more thankful for not being  a woman. It took forever guys. It took me 45 minutes to shave one leg (I have hairy legs) and I was so tired that I just shaved one leg and woke up to shave the other one in the morning…. That night in bed was weird to say the least—-my legs rubbing against one another…it was oddly nice. If you have never shaved your legs – do it- feels so good under the sheets. And yea, I legit had to shave my legs- wasn’t a “gay” thing….. if you ride on the track they make sure you shave your legs cause if you fall on the gravel, the gravel will pull your leg hair which then pulls out your skin opposed to just scratching it if you are shaved. Fun fact.

Little 500 was great, and my team was awesome – check out the team pic below (I am one handsome college athlete- objectively speaking…) New bros, soft smooth legs – I’ll take it, am I right dad?

 Picture of our team below: Im on the bottom left—-the stud muffin.