Lets Do Some Stupid Shit. Lets Get Messy, Messy, With It.

I left California... cold, heart broken, and not optimistic about my future. There's nothing like a failed relationship to make a young boy doubt everything in his life. In a city of millions of people, it's easy to get lost in your own head, and feel alone. Especially when things haven't been going your way. I had no job, the cash in my pocket, and a pit in my stomach that was growing self doubt and blossoming into misery.

As I looked out the window, the sparkling view of the city was only interrupted by the smoke billowing from the middle turbine. "This is just brilliant." I thought to myself, as the oxygen masks fell from the ceiling, the plane started to shake, and the girl next to me started to scream. Of course it was my plane that had to have an engine malfunction, less than 20 minutes into our decent upon Denver. I sighed as i wrapped my arms around the hysterical 26 year old girl, who wept into my chest.

I stopped for a cigarette at one of the designated smoking areas before heading to the baggage claim to retrieve my luggage. As i poured over my red moleskin journal, a diet coke, and Anna Nalick, i lashed out at everyone in my life that was hurting me: my friends for not being there for me as much as I was there for them; the goddamn airline that nearly ended my life, Shawn for being exactly what i never wanted, and then treating me poorly, and finally to myself, for not being smart enough to see it, or strong enough to change it.

I was in the far corner of the dim airport bar, sunglasses the size of my hand, scribbling into a notebook, crying about living a life i didn't want. I was officially an episode of the Young and the Restless, poor lighting and all. I thought about everything that was wrong with my life, and how it got to where it was. I ordered a Grey Goose and Diet Coke from the bartender. Maybe he didn't I.D. me because I was the only person in the bar and I had ordered a $14 drink. Maybe it was because he thought I was cute. Maybe it was because I was a grown man crying in the corner of an airport bar at 12:37am. Either way, I was drinking some liquid therapy, which was well-needed, and after that flight from hell, well deserved.

The following two weeks were pretty standard when you visit all of your old friends, back in your hometown: drink, drink, drink, smoke, smoke, drink, hangover, Ugly Betty Season 2, drink, drink, get thrown out of a bar, drink, eat, smoke, rinse, repeat.

A week before my return to California, I was getting wasted at my favorite local gay dive bar, Broadways, with some of the best friends a boy could ever have. As I danced to Lady Gaga and Beyonce, I found myself surrounded by a little group of VERY sexy boys, bumping, grinding, and doing pretty much anything you can do that ends in an "ing". I stepped out into the below zero weather, lit a cigarette, and thought to myself, "I gave this all up for what? For Hollywood? For palm trees? For my 'career'?"

Zach, Jace, and Josh all pummeled out of the booming bar, laughing and talking. They saw me, and immediately flew on top of me, crushing me with hugs and laughs. We all went inside for another round of drinks, another round of pool, and another round of boys.

The sun mauled my face with the sharp slices of sunlight that poured through the busted window blinds. Blinded by the inconsideration of nature, i felt around for my cell phone. No missed calls. I rolled over in Zach's bed to wrap my arms around him and smother him with love, only to be shocked by an unfamiliar face. I shrieked and flew off the bed, peering over the edge to try and figure out who it was. It was a full 30 seconds before i noticed that i was crouching naked on a pile of someone else's clothes. i grabbed a sheet, and flew to the bathroom, skipping over condom wrappers, scrolling through last night's activities to recollect what exactly happened, and who that was sleeping in Zach's place.

Oh yes, it was Zach's friend... what was his name? Tommy? Andy? All this frantic thinking was making me dizzy and made me want to... I threw up the minimal contents of my stomach. That's when it all came back to me. I had my first group sex experience. I washed my mouth out, brushed my teeth, and hopped in the shower. The last thing I can remember is being thrown on the bed by... Jimmy was it?... and then making out with Jace, while some other guy who's name i never caught was getting undressed?

I closed my eyes and let the water scour my head and body, reading my patchy memory, slowly recalling my Moulin Rouge evening. i washed my body, looking down at all the bruises on my arms, butt cheeks and inner thighs. Things must have gotten crazy, judging by the treasure map of marks all over my body. I tilted my head up to the shower head, the hot water pounding onto my face. My eyes flicked open; I immediately remember EXACTLY what happened. Not only did I have an orgy, but I was the only bottom. ...and I was good at it.

I dried myself off, put on some clean briefs, and walked back to the bedroom. I check my text messages, and Zach went home with a boy from the bar. Thank god I wasn't the only one who had a Skinemax evening. I laid back down in bed, and attempted to sleep off the Hurricane Katrina that was trapped inside my body.

Dr. Alice Kim came back with my test results. Four days had passed, and my throat was so swollen, i couldn't swallow. I had a blistering 104 degree fever, and was so dehydrated that I could barely talk. Apparently I had developed Tonsillitis; a bacterial infection of my tonsils, which resulted in a stomach virus, making it near impossible for me to keep anything down. The first question out of her mouth was, "Have you had anything foreign in the back of your throat, or consumed anything you wouldn't normally in the past few days?"

After nursing myself back to health for a few days with DVD's, Penicillin, and Percocet, I lied there in my bed, unable to move, unable to do all the things I planned on doing before leaving for Los Angeles. I wanted to spend more time with my grandma and little brother. I wanted to spend time tromping around like drag queens with Zach, Josh, Jace, and Derek. I wanted to flit around Boulder with Kyle, drinking coffee and eating vegetarian.. but I couldn't because I recklessly abused my body, and let others abuse it. Was sleeping with three gorgeous boys a total blast? Absolutely. Was fucking and sucking like a champion porn star satisfying? In the moment it was amazing, but i sacrificed the rest of my trip to recover from it.

I thought a lot of different things over that week, but the one thing is that continually repeated it's self was that I wanted to take better care of my body, and my life. I NEEDED to take better care. I can start a dietary regime of Aderol and diet coke, and loose 30 lbs in 6 weeks, but I'm not taking care of myself, and BEING healthy. I don't just want to look great, I want to feel great. ...and the first step is making better lifestyle decisions.

As of right now, i haven't had anything to drink or smoke since that night (other than wine with dinner), and have cut fast food, dairy, and junk food from my diet. Is it always gonna stick? Am i going to be perfect all the time? Absolutely not. But I am going to start to make positive conscious decisions that will help my body. Maybe if I love my body more, someone else will.

XXO
Matty Beautiful

I Can't Win a Loosing Fight All the Time.

“Baby, I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know what I would do without you. You help me so much… Today couldn’t have happened without you here. You’re amazing, and you were here for me in a way that nobody else was.”

His bedroom is a dim orange, and his bed is soft and warm. The room pulses and bumps in the background, matching his heart beat. My hand is placed gently on his golden chest, tracing the lines and cuts with my freshly manicured fingers.

“Well, that’s what you do when you care about someone… you do for them what they can’t do for themselves. I’m more than happy to be here for you, in anyway –every way- possible. I care about you a lot, and I am SO proud of you.”

I slid my hand to his face and kissed him softly. His breath was cinnamon fresh, and it always left my lips tingling. I slide my body down onto his chest, as he wrapped his rippling arms around me, gently holding me close. He is always so delicate with me, almost as if he was afraid I was going to fall apart in his arms. He is considerably more muscular, and can lift twice my weight. It would be very easy to hurt me, but he treats me like a flower, always careful and respectful.

I kiss him again, smiling against his lips, as I run my hand down his neck and shoulders. His skin was soft and supple from me shaving him the previous night before his body building competition. He walked home with a trophy as I knew he would, and (in my opinion) it’ll be mere months until he qualifies to become Pro.

I don’t know much about Professional Bodybuilding, dieting, “carbing up”, posing, or judging. What I do know is how to make a beautiful man look his best. What I also know, is how to take care of somebody that I care about, and how to anticipate someone’s needs. He buckled down for months, isolating himself and dedicating his life to his passion, which is what attracted me to him, and I was going to do everything within my power to help him succeed.

I’ll be the first person to tell you that I don’t care about big muscles and big dicks. I don’t care about money and fast cars, or gifts and vacations. What attracts me is a quiet passion for life, someone who has goals, a reason to live. Living life isn’t enough... it’s actively chasing a dream that’s the rare aphrodisiac, which is probably one of the reasons why I’ve been single for so long. I’m not attracted to men, or people, who are just float through life.

For the past few months, I prepared meals for him, kept him company, left him voicemails to wake up to, stopped smoking and drinking in front of him. I altered my lifestyle for him, which I was more than happy to do. You change a bit of yourself for the people you care about.

Babying him in every way possible, I was changing the way that I dress and act around people, so as to not inconvenience his lifestyle or his image. I would spend my days at his house, alone, while he slept all day, prepare his food for him, get him off, and then I’d go to bed. It was lonely.

When he noticed I was unhappy, he would say “Baby, when I finish this competition, it’ll be about us. I’ll actually be able to go out, and eat at real restaurants, instead of 6 ounces of chicken every three hours. I won’t be tired all the time, and we can finally… spend actual time together.”

I’m not sure exactly what I expected. Maybe I thought that if I took care of someone enough, showed them what kind of future I could be, I’d be worth loving. After two weeks of excuses and missed dates preceding the competition, I started to doubt myself; I started to doubt us. After two weeks of “Goodnight Prince.” “Goodnight Princess”, and not much else, I initiated “the talk”. We’ve been seeing each other for a few months, and I think it’d be an appropriate time to talk about developing a relationship.

“2 me ur a very close friend… that I feel like I can tell you anything and talk to you… and I told you I am always here for you. I am n ur life I care about you I love chillen with you…”

After a few moments of deciphering the message, I responded, “Show me.”

Immediately I received a message back , “When I wake up, I’m going to go early so I can get my haircut and come get you, okay?”

I smiled to myself, excited at the prospect of spending my last two days in California with him before my two-week visit to Colorado. I responded “Come showered so if I’m not ready to get up, you can crawl into bed with me for a bit. I’ll leave my phone on so your call wakes me up.”

“Okay! :-) Goodnight Princess.”

“Goodnight Prince. <3”

I went to bed confident and excited for the following day. We had originally planned for me to stay with him for the entire weekend, to go shopping (I needed a manicure), and you know, spend time together. Do things you do when someone you care about is going to leave for an extended amount of time.

To say the least, that has yet to happen.

Flight 281 to Denver International Airport, from LAX leaves in less than 24 hours, and I have yet to see the only person in the world I want to see. After three rings, I get bumped to voicemail. I feel this sinking pit in my stomach, as I leave a quiet message.

I woke up this morning at 1:12pm with dried drool on my face, 3 new voicemails, 9 text messages, and an empty bed. I look at my phone to see a text from him, “Bad news babe, I left my wallet in Michael’s car, so I have to drive to Irvine (Orange County, an hour South of Hollywood) to get it.”

“That’s okay! Do you want me to come with you? I haven’t been to Orange County in forever! We can stop at Fred’s in Huntington Beach and get fish taco’s on the pier?”

“No that’s okay, I’m going to get it after traffic, and then I’ll call you.”

“It’s 2:30pm on a Sunday… there isn’t any traffic.”

“Right now there is…”

“Okay. Then there is.”

Perpetually feeling disappointed my friends, friends, family, and my career, I can handle… well enough, at least. However, the disappointment of empty promises from someone I care about, and trust my body with… well, it’s harder to get used to. I consider myself to be a considerably selfless person, and I trust pretty easily.

Mentors of mine suggest that my “ignorance and naivety makes me immature and stupid”. I think that living my life with an open heart and optimism isn’t immature at all. In fact, I think that it takes great strength and moral development to live life with the air and presence that I do.

I know that someday it will be my turn to meet someone who has a heart the size of mine. The thing is, the men that I date AREN’T bad people… they just don’t… care as much as I do. I have a big heart, and my grandma says that it’s unfair to compare the size of other people’s hearts to mine, because I’ll just end up continually being disappointed with everyone. Some friends say that I hold people to impossible standards. I’m not sure if either one of those things are true.

In fact, I ask VERY little from people. I just want to meet someone who will actually follow through with what they say they’re going to do. Sounds simple right? You’d be surprised how impossible that can be for some people.

But then Jamie and Vyckee call, telling me how excited they are to pick me up from the airport, and I think back to the last time they picked me up, with glittering “Matty Beautiful” signs, screaming my name, and running across baggage claim. I may not have a man, but I have two beautiful mothers who love me more than any man ever could, and although I’m sitting in a cold apartment in Hollywood, I close my eyes and think of the last hug I had with them, and I’m home. Even if it’ only for a moment, everything is okay, and I know I’m loved.

XXO
Matty Beautiful