I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.
Crowned With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew, A formula, a phrase remains,--but the best is lost.
The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love, -- They are gone.
They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom.
I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave, Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve.
And I am not resigned.

Charles Edward McKool, Jr
August 5, 1925 - February 5, 1998

I miss you Granddaddy!!!

Well, summer is drawing to a close and I thought I would take some time to give a brief update of what has been going on in my life, as exciting as it may be these days! LOL

Around the middle of last month, I was making my final preparations to begin the fall semester; I had to be rushed to the hospital via ambulance because of a very severe asthma attack. I ended up spending 10 days in the hospital and had to reluctantly make the decision to take a semester off from school. I really have enjoyed going back to school and did not like having to do this, but I needed to make sure that my health was in order before trying to go back.

Now, I have come back out to Quinlan to stay with my mother for a little while to continue to recuperate. I have started working part time for a real-estate company in Dallas and am enjoying that, but do miss going to school. I will be moving back to Dallas in the next 30-45 days and am very much looking forward to that. I mean, Quinlan is growing by leaps and bounds now that they have a Wal-Mart and all, but I am still a city boy at heart.

That’s the latest from here. I will continue with some of my stories very soon now that I am feeling better and have some time on my hands.

Until then,

Mark Daniel

Ok….I know, I know….I have been neglecting writing in my blog….but hey, it’s summer, and all the hot guys are coming out without their shirts on and in nice little shorts showing off their tanned and toned bodies. C’mon guys. Is that really what it’s all about? Is that what “finding that special someone” has come to? I have to admit that, yeah, eye candy is nice sometimes, but maybe I am just different. I think there is so much more to a guy then nice pecs and a cute ass. Sometimes I think that so many of us are looking for “Mr. Perfect,” but we don’t look past his pic or his looks to find him. Sometimes he is standing right in front of us and, because his abs aren’t a perfect 6 pack, we walk right past him.

Entry for June 29, 2007 "Learning From Our Mistakes"

A couple of weeks ago, I got to spend a very nice weekend with my family to celebrate my Grandmother’s 80^th birthday. Pictured above is a group picture of us at the family lake house. It was enjoyable and I am grateful for having been included. My family is very diverse and it has been wonderful to grow up and watch the changes that have occurred over the years. How having children can mellow a person, or how a change in career can humble one, or even how the death of a patriarch can completely change the lives of so many. Life has many twists and turns and so many are unexpected and can blindside you. Strange how that is. We try so hard to grow and learn from our mistakes and our triumphs as well, and life can come right along and throw all of that knowledge down the drain and spin you around, heading you in a totally different direction then you ever expected.

To learn from our mistakes. We learn so many things from making the wrong decisions. We learn as children that the stove is hot and will burn us. We learn that talking back to Grandmother usually isn’t the right choice. We learn that studying usually pays off. We learn that doing the speed limit is usually a good idea. We almost all learn these things. But there are so many decisions that we have in life that we might be able to learn from, but we will never be able to make again. So how does learning from this mistake help improve our lives??

Let me try to clarify what I am saying here. In 1991, I chose to leave high school. It is a decision that I regret almost everyday of my life. I never got to do the things that the seniors had earned the right to do. I never got to try out for drum major. I never got to go to the senior retreat. I never got to eat lunch in the senior courtyard and most of all, I never got to walk across that stage in my cap and gown. These are mistakes that I learned from, but I will never have the opportunity to make the choice again and put into action what I learned.

I have let people I know truly loved me go simply because I was too stupid to realize it or because I thought maybe there was something “better” out there for me. Sure, I know that next time, if there is a next time, that maybe I will look and see true love when it finds me, but what about those that I have already let go? I can never have that opportunity again. I can never make that choice again. Sure, I learned from my mistakes, but the regret and guilt can be heavy and overpowering.

I have made career decisions that I can never take back and never have the opportunity to change. I may have learned from my mistake….but once again…for what? How does that help me? I have said things and done things to people, including my own parents, that I look back on now and am appalled by, but those are things I can never change…I can never take back. Learn from my mistakes?

YES….OK….I learned? But I can’t change the past, and it pisses me off!

Until then,

Mark Daniel

Spent spring break at Mom's in Quinlan. Pretty nice and quiet. Enjoyed it. Also got to attend my Aunt Patsy's 80th birthday party. That's us in the picture. I enjoyed seeing the family again.

So....to finish catching you up....here is the rest of the repeat...

"The Parties"

(This is a continuation of ‘Entry for September 17, 2005 "Money II"’)

The parties at DaveyBob’s were always fun. They were usually open and you never knew who was going to show up. At that time there was a BBS system called "The Coyote’s Den" run by a guy known as "Wylie Coyote." He actually legally changed his name to that. Anyway, it was pretty popular in the gay community. Remember, this was before the Internet and chat rooms that we know today. Charles and I actually started a BBS system called "Boyztown". It was just a 2-line system, but was fun to play on and run. Anyway, there would always be an open invite posted on the BBSs so we would get a lot of different people.

Back then, I was known as Atreyue. Although that was my "formal" screen name, most just called me "Atty". DaveyBob’s parties always started out just about like any other party. There was an open bar, the pool and hot tub were open, and the music was always "thumpin’". There was a computer in the office and some would get online to invite more people or see why some people hadn’t shown up. There was a lot of general conversation and introductions of people who had been talking online but had yet to meet in person or those who had never met at all. Just a party.

As the night would progress, alcohol levels rose, inhibitions dropped and swimsuits vanished, and the party began to take on a personality of it’s own. A lot of the guys would have already headed home or out to the clubs, but usually 10 or 20 would hang around til the wee hours of the morning or until they woke up at noonish the next day with foggy memories and a hell of a hangover. Sometimes people would retreat to the bedrooms in pairs (or more) and some would just play in the pool or hot tub or on the leather couches which were new when I met DaveyBob. Damn did they get broken in fast. Don’t get me wrong here guys. DaveyBob’s parties weren’t mass orgies or anything. There were all types of different people there including couples. People were just free to have fun and enjoy themselves. About the only thing that made DaveyBob a little pissed was when someone would bring a girl to the party. It made some of the guys a little uncomfortable, self conscious and unable to enjoy themselves to "the fullest." Usually the girls were politely pushed out the door in some way or another.

DaveyBob had a lot of parties, and a lot of fair weather friends too. The booze was free, there were free snacks, the music was good, the boyz were generally as cute as those at the clubs, and, if you wanted to, you could usually count on getting some. Although I still looked like "chicken" (a very young gay boy), any innocence that I had left, quickly vanished.

More people then just a weekend party would always attend Holiday parties. I mean, think about it, the bars would always be more crowded, so why not "Casa DaveyBob"? Labor Day, Memorial Day, The 4^th, Christmas and, the one to top them all, New Years were always a hell of a lot of fun. The police usually would visit at least once a night on the 4^th because of drunken queens shooting off fireworks in the front yard. The straight suburbanites already didn’t like all the faggot’s cars lining there streets, so any excuse they could get to deter the "lude behavior" they would jump on.

Now New Years was a separate entity in and of itself. The house was full, the pool was swimming, and the hot tub was overflowing with people. Besides the "regular" open bar, there were cases upon cases of champagne for the midnight toast. Just a side bar, the cheap stuff was for the general population, while the case or so of the expensive champagne was reserved for closer friends and anybody DaveyBob wanted to get impress or treat for one reason or another! J The dining room table was usually filled with extra special goodies for New Years. I can remember for the first couple of years, I would play "Baby New Year" when the clock struck 12, walking through with a tray of champagne in a diaper. It usually took quite a few cocktails for me to get up the nerve to do it though.

DaveyBob’s money ran like water and there were many there to enjoy the shower. I can’t say that I wasn’t one of them. Hell, I was in my late teens, a newly "come out" fag and these were some of the best times I had had as a gay boy. DaveyBob’s parties were definitely an experience, but I was about to see parties and a lifestyle like I had never seen before and the shower would nearly drown me. Once again, my eyes would be as wide as saucers, my perceptions would change and I would learn about yet another "side" of gay life.

"Money Parties"

(This is a continuation of "Entry for September 25, 2005 "The Parties"")

DaveyBob invited me to an invitation only Halloween party at one of his friend’s houses. Of course I agreed. Hell, it was a party, and at that time in my life if it was a party, I was interested. I will never forget this Halloween night. I worked very hard to put together an awesome costume. "Doogie Howser" was a very popular show on TV at the time. I had been told sometimes that I looked like him. Then again, they also thought I looked like Rick Schroeder….so who knows. Anyway, I went to a medical supply store and bought a white lab coat and stethoscope. Then I went to one of those engraving stores in the mall and had a nametag engraved "Douglas Howser M.D.". I wore jeans, tennis shoes, and a shirt and tie. In other words, it was a cute costume and very accurate.

We decided to meet at DaveyBob’s house and have a couple of drinks before we left. DaveyBob wore a "Phantom of the Opera" costume. It is one of his favorite operas. Many a night he would dramatically sing along with the soundtrack at the house. Anyway, the doorbell rang and it was the chauffeur. Outside was a beautiful black stretch limo, which was to carry us to the party. I was even more excited…A limo?? Cool!

DaveyBob and I rode in the limo, having a couple more drinks, to the party. I had a pretty good buzz by the time we reached the party so I don’t remember a whole lot about the house except that it was obviously owned by someone with money and lots of it. It was a mild October night and most everyone was outside on the patio. My inhibitions had faded substantially by now, and I went around the party and gave everyone a hernia exam. For those of you who don’t know, that’s the typical "turn your head and cough" test. There were few people I knew at the party so this was a hell of a way to get to know people. I’m not sure if I was the hit of the party or the joke, but I definitely made an impression.

DaveyBob and I left the party after a nice time and headed down to the strip. We arrived at Big Daddy’s and definitely turned heads. It wasn’t often that a brand new stretch limo pulled into a hustler bar like Big Daddy’s. We had some more cocktails and headed home. It was definitely a lot of fun and great to be "grand" for the evening.

I was intrigued about the group of guys at the party. I mean, there were limos, Rolls Royces, Mercedes, and Cadillacs parked outside the party. I will never forget the neon purple Rolls parked out front. Who were this guys and who was actually invited to this "invitation only" party? They were a very exclusive group called "The Airliners." Now I don’t know all the details, but apparently it is a group of extremely wealthy gay men and gay couples. I also knew that DaveyBob wanted badly to be a part of this group. I think it was more for the "status" of the group rather then the friendship of it’s members. There were certain requirements that must be met in order to join this exclusive group. Once obvious requirement was to be very rich. Like I said, I am not sure of all the logistics, but I think they actually checked the bank records of their perspective members.

One of the first Airliner parties that David hosted was an Easter party. It was actually held on Palm Sunday, the Sunday before Easter. I will never forget it. Charles accompanied me to the party. Charles still had strong feelings for me, and I still considered us as "just friends," and I don’t think I paid for any part of the outfit, but I digress. I worked very hard to put together a "fabulously gay" outfit for the party; white slacks, a white button up, short sleeve shirt with thin pastel stripes, and a tie hand painted with smiling condoms.

The party was very over the top. Everyone met at "Casa DaveyBob," for early afternoon mimosas and bloody marys. The two young bartenders were gorgeous, adorned with black bow ties, black cumberbuns and black slacks. They wore no shirt showing off their beautifully tanned pecs and abs. The problem with that was I kept going to get drinks from them, not just because they were free drinks and God knows I enjoyed drinking, but to have the opportunity to get a little closer and chat with hunks.

At that time, DART (Dallas Area Rapid Transit) had some really cute busses that were pastel painted with bunny ears and a bunny face on the front of the bus. So get this. Three of those very obvious busses arrived at the house and maneuvered past the limos, cadillacs , and Rolls Royces to pull in front of the house. Now this definitely got the neighbor’s attention.

All of the gentlemen dressed in their casual Easter outfits, some actually wearing flamboyant, Easter bonnets, piled into the busses. So, we were off. The caravan was definitely an eye catcher. The neon purple Rolls lead with a couple of limos following and bringing up he rear were the "bunny busses." What a scene.

The caravan headed to Turtle Creek, a very exclusive part of town on the edge of Oak Lawn (the gayborhood), and pulled up to a three-story office building belonging to one of the members. We enjoyed a delicious catered lunch in the open atrium of the building and enjoyed some more mimosas and bloody marys. Then there was an Easter egg hunt on the wonderfully manicured green lawn surrounding the building. The Easter Bunny was even there. Can you imagine a bunch of millionaire fags running around looking for Easter Eggs with the help of the Easter Bunny?? I told you it was unforgettable.

We all loaded back into the busses and headed to McKinney Avenue, a historic area of Dallas with restored streetcars running up and down the street. So there we were a bunch of millionaire, half-buzzed fags riding in streetcars riding through McKinney Avenue past the Hard Rock Café and other tourist attractions. I will never forget passing this cute young straight couple holding hands. One of the guys yelled out of the open windows of the streetcar "Show us your titts." The couple looked at us with a bewildered look…go figure! Then he yelled "Not you honey…..HIM." The car erupted with laughter.

The end of the line was "Casa DaveyBob," once again catching the ever-watching eyes of the neighbors. There were more cocktails served by the hot bartenders, and some of the guys partook in the warm hot tub on the back deck.

The party dwindled and most of the couples headed home. I at this point, putting it simply, was drunk! As dusk approached, there were maybe twenty people left at the party and things in the hot tub began to get a little…hell who am I kidding….it got a lot more interesting. Unfortunately, I don’t remember too much more of the party after the champagne and Cape Cods, but apparently one of the younger friends of DaveyBob’s from New Orleans and I got….well, let’s just say we got a little more aquatinted in the hot tub. Once again, I’m not sure if I was the hit or the joke of the party, but for some reason, I became pretty popular with some of the members.

After that spectacle, I was put to bed in DaveyBob’s modern, four poster bed and passed out. The night ended with me doing, as DaveyBob described it a back flip off of the end of the bed in an attempt to get to the bathroom to "purge" myself of the fine liquor I had partaken in. I didn’t quite make it, and there was a permanent purple, cranberry stain left on the carpet at the end of the bed. DaveyBob never let me live that one down!!

WOW! This was the kind of party that most would never dream getting the opportunity to attend, and it obviously took some money to put together. I loved it! Lot's of money and a great imagination can make a hell of a party!

Now those are some unforgettable memories!

"The Hustle"

I learned a lot those first few years after coming out. That naive kid who took his first steps into Oak Lawn seemed ages behind me now. I had seen a lot of different aspects of the gay life. They don’t differ too much from the "hetero-world." The only difference is this that it was in the "homo-world," if you will. There were rich and poor, young and old, educated and non-educated, cute and not, and all of those who fit somewhere in between. There were a lot of young guys, and a lot of cute guys, but not very many young, cute rich guys.

I had grown up in a world where my birthright meant more then my work ethic. I didn’t grow up rich, but by no means were we poor. My Granddaddy and mother and father worked very hard for the money they made. I didn’t really know what work was. Don’t get me wrong, I worked very hard at the things that I loved. Problem was, most of those things didn’t pay.

Ok, so I was young, and even though I wasn’t a God, I was cute, but I wasn’t rich. So, how does a young cute guy get what he wants? How does he get the gold chain and the heavy starched Polo’s (guess that would equal Tommy’s today)? How does he get to live in the beautiful house with the pool and hot tub and meticulously manicured grounds?

The word "Hustler" is a commonly used in gay society. It usually refers, but is not limited to a male prostitute who works the street, usually in the "gayborhood." A lot of times these guys would saunter into one of the "hustler bars" such as but by no means limited to Big Daddy’s where occasionally they could find a trick or two for the evening. A lot of the guys were underage runaways usually living on the street and dealing with a drug addiction.

There is also another "type" of hustler called "escorts." They weren’t much different from a street hustler except maybe they were cuter, knew how to manage their money better and how to take care of themselves, had a place to live, and charged a lot more money. They were used commonly used as eye candy and taken to nice dinners or out to the clubs before "completing the contract."

But what was it that these guys had that was such a commodity? You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure this one out. They were young, cute, or at least cute enough, and were willing……for a price.

I knew what these guys were and what they did, but that’s not what I wanted. I had tasted what money had to offer and my pallet longed for more. I mean, I was cute and young, but I didn’t just want to have sex with people for money. I wanted so much more. Now, that was the challenge. I wanted to reap the rewards of being the "escort," but wanted to make those rewards even greater. I didn’t want just one night. I wanted true love, but I would settle for being loved. To put it simply, I wanted the security of knowing that I was taken care of, or, in "gayly terms, I wanted a daddy, but I wanted one who loved me and who I loved just as much in return. You know, to this day, I don’t think I have ever seen that happen; a daddy and his young lover actually loving each other equally and unconditionally. Hmmm. Anyway just because one has a daddy doesn’t mean he doesn’t have to work. A lot of these young cuties keep steady jobs, and those who don’t earn their keep around the house as sort of a house husband for lack of a better term.

Like I said before, there aren’t too many cute, young, gay rich kids floating around out there, and those that are, are either still in their blue blooded closets or already taken. I liked guys my age, at least the looks of them. Their intellect, attitude and experience is what turned me off, not to mention the fact that they usually could barely afford to support themselves or were still living at home. A lot of people look down on me for my outlooks at that time of my life. So be it. I was young and cute and knew it….at least I knew the young part….my low self esteem usually always had be second-guessing the cute part, but apparently a lot of people thought I was. So I figured that these were commodities that I had seen very successfully marketed and why shouldn’t I do the same?

During the DaveyBob era, I hadn’t mastered the art of snagging a sugar daddy. Hell, I really didn’t need to. DaveyBob did a pretty good job of making sure there were always good times for all. I did however, learn how to spot one though. You may not have to be a hustler to get a daddy, but you sure as hell better know how to think like one. Hell, I learned how to smell a Platinum American Express from a mile away, and I definitely learned how to flirt. I always knew how to get free drinks and could usually finagle a nice dinner once or twice a week, but I never really found "the one." I think this is because I really did want true love and never found it. They wanted a toy, and I wanted a lover.

DaveyBob was probably the closest thing I ever had to a sugar daddy. Charles wanted to be but knew he couldn’t, and I really do believe that Charles loved me. I never "officially" moved in with DaveyBob for any extended period of time and we almost never slept in the same bed, but we were friends and I was usually around. Problem was, and DaveyBob never even knew this, I actually did fall in love with him. I knew he cared for me, but I also knew he wasn’t in love with me. The money attracted me to DaveyBob, but DaveyBob made me fall in love with him.

So, it was what it was. We would go out to the clubs together and sometimes DaveyBob would get lucky and sometimes I would. Sometimes if we were in the mood, we both got lucky at the same time. At other times, I would play bait and send a drink, with DaveyBob buying it of course, to a cutie that he wanted at the end of the bar. Then I would go strike up a conversation and introduce DaveyBob as my friend or roommate or whatever…..didn’t really matter. We would take the lad back to Casa DaveyBob….and I would make some excuse about how I had something to do in the other room or some BS like that and never return. It was very like the little "hustle" that "Nick the Dick" did with me my first night out in the gayborhood, and sometimes it made me jealous. Look, DaveyBob was, for the most part, taking care of a roof over my head and food in my stomach and he was teaching me a hell of a lot about life. And not just how to party, DaveyBob was a brilliant man and, even though he really thought I wasn’t listening all those times he would talk politics, or fine food, or wines, or life, I was. I learned a hell of a lot more about life with DaveyBob when we weren't actually "partying". But, all I had to do was make sure I had spending money to have a good time. I don’t think of it as "paying my dues" or anything like that. I just wanted to make him happy, no matter how jealous it made me.

It was what it was, but we both knew that nothing lasted forever. Change is a part of life, and both of our lives were about to change yet again and in a big way.

“The Party’s Over”

(This is a continuation of Entry for October 04, 2005 "The Hustle")

Every good thing comes to an end, or at least they change drastically. The parties, the money, the drinking, the limos, the boys, the gourmet dinners; it was all about to come to a not so abrupt end.

DaveyBob and I never really discussed finances. To be honest, it was really none of my business, and back then I really didn’t care as long as things stayed “the way that they were.” I was still in the mindset that I was “supposed” to be “taken care of.” Remember, I was brought up never knowing the true concept of how much a dollar was really worth. I was taken care of in every way, and now, DaveyBob had been filling the roll of “caregiver.” I’m not sure if he chose that roll, or if I imposed it on him.

Nonetheless, the parties became to be more sporadic, and they weren’t the “balls to the wall extravaganzas” (sometimes literally) that they had been in the short time that I had known DaveyBob. The guest list got a bit smaller with every “event,” and I noticed that Rowdy had become quite a bit more scarce.

DaveyBob sold his beautiful Acura and bought a used Mercedes, and before I knew it, the house which had given me some “interesting” memories, that DaveyBob spent so much money on, had become “party central,” was put on the market.

DaveyBob moved into another very nice house. DaveyBob had asked me to help him move, but I was a no-show. This was just another example of what was important to me at the time. DaveyBob was pissed at me, and told me so, and I am sure he didn’t get over it quickly, but nothing else was said about it.

He spent a lot of money once again, fixing the new house up. He painted, redid the kitchen and several other major tasks. There wasn’t a pool or hot tub at this house, but it was a unique design and very nice.

All of a sudden, as if things had never changes, the parties started up again. And I don’t mean just small affairs, but the grand parties where the booze flowed and the door revolved with hot boys. The New Years Eve party was extravagant with delicious, expensive “snacks” on the marble dining room table. There were cases upon cases of champagne and a free bar that rivaled any club in the “gayborhood.” The music blared and the street was once again lined with Roles Royces, limos, and Mercedes’.

The parties, the boys and the booze that had so quickly returned to “the place to be seen” once again began to taper off. The parties had once again became few and far between.

I had become a regular houseguest there…hell, let’s be honest, I was living there. I mean, I didn’t necessarily “move in,” but I may as well have. The guest bedroom had become to be known as “Mark’s room.” Since I was there more, I saw and learned more. DaveyBob was still just “DaveyBob,” so, I never even though that anything was changing, until it was time to move again.

That’s when I learned that the house that we had been living in, the house where another round of parties had occurred, the house that DaveyBob had spent a good wad of cash fixing up was leased. There was no reason to put it on the market because it wasn’t his to sell.

DaveyBob and I moved…well, DaveyBob moved into a nice quad-level townhome with a deck and hot-tub. Once again, I wasn’t there to help move. Go figure. I lived there for awhile, sleeping on the couch. There were a couple of parties and small gatherings in the hot-tub, but nothing like they had been in the past.

The money flowed through his fingers like water, and eventually, the well ran dry.

DaveyBob now lives in LA and, although he reminisces about the “good ol’ days,” I know that he has found some level of happiness there. Is it the same kind of “happiness” that he had with all the parties and boys and booze? No, they are very different. But, they are both happiness and can both be very satisfying. DaveyBob has a long-term boyfriend who loves him for who he is rather then how well his pocket is lined.

Back then, I was such a shallow person, that I, like so many of the others, pretty much dismissed DaveyBob since he had "nothing to offer." I wish I hadn't waisted that time. DaveyBob had something much more important to offer than his money; DaveyBob.

I don’t write this story to belittle DaveyBob is anyway whatsoever. Quite the contrary. DaveyBob’s strong zest for life got him through what this was, a lesson for all of us to use in our own lives. Look, so may of us try to impress people with what we have rather then who we are. Men, straight and gay alike, walking around town with “arm candy” thinking that somehow that makes them a better person. Does it? How do we judge people in this world? Is it by their clothes, their cars, the people they are with? People are so much more then that, and although it is so easy to judge people by these things, it is not who they really are.

“Concurrently”

(This is a continuation of The Entry for July 16, 2006 “The Party’s Over”)

The parties, the limos, the booze, the boyz and et al., were lots of fun. Believe it or not though, there were other things going on in my life at that time. Life wasn’t one big party by far. I mean, I sure tried to live the party ALL the time, but we all know that, even in out teens and twenties, it can’t always be that way.

I lived in different places, tried different jobs, met new friends and so called friends, even tried to go back to school for awhile. I still kept getting sucked into the bar scene and that need to be appreciated and noticed. I always wanted to be the one that everybody noticed when I walked into a room. I knew I wasn’t, but that’s when I would put on the cocky attitude. You see, it is quite common when someone who is not very secure with themselves to put on a front. My front was the cute smile, the confident “strut” and the air of being, what ever that means.

Boyfriends and, just plain boyz came in and out of my life. Some I remember fondly, and some…well, I don’t. I always wanted that elusive thing I called “love,” but never gave it a real chance because I was always looking for that common approval…that sense of “being noticed.” Not to mention the fact that all I really cared about was myself and had the “what’s in it for me?” attitude. I really was an asshole looking back. I turned away love when it was staring me in the face, and deep down, all I really wanted was to be loved and to really love even though I wouldn’t allow myself. I have many regrets. Maybe it was the fear of being hurt or getting a broken heart. Maybe…..maybe just a combination of mixed fears and feelings and mistakes.

I worked for the family business on and off. Usually more off then on because the partying and late nights at the clubs pretty much killed that 8 am work time. Most of the time, I ended up working in a bar; bar backing, bar tending, waiting tables and ended up doing promotions. This was where I felt most comfortable. Well, I’m not sure if comfortable is the right word, but it was where I could put on the attitude and at least get some of the attention that I was desperate for.

Working in the club may have its benefits for a young, cute new face, but it also has a hell of a lot of disadvantages. Drinking was the only thing I partook in even though the clubs were full of other “recreational” drugs. Eventually though, it caught up to me as I think it does to most people in that industry at one time or another.

After jumping around, back and forth from here and there, I moved into an efficiency apartment on the outskirts of Oak Lawn, Dallas’ gay “Mecca.” I had to be close to where I was appreciated, “loved”, admired or whatever BS I would feed to myself. I do still believe that that was one of the few places that I could actually be myself…gay…looking for love with another man…..showing affection to another friend or boyfriend. Sad that even though more then a decade has passed, Dallas is still pretty much the same when it comes to that.

I ended up doing promotions at a club called “Millennium.” It was a fun place and I really enjoyed the time there. Not to mention the fact that the drinks were stiff (so were the boyz) and the coke flowed freely. It eventually closed it’s doors, not because of lack of revenue, but the owner just decided to move on to other things.

So, I was looking for another “haven” to call a job in the Oak Lawn bar scene. I ended up at this little bar, and when I say little, I mean LITTLE, and became the promotions director. It was a place called Backstreet. It had been known for nearly 30 years as “The Cove,” a well known hangout for hustlers and those seeking hustlers, but had recently been sold. It was an ok job…..commission only for the work that I did on ads and posters and what not.

Then…..that Sunday came. It’s when he came into my life and nothing has been the same since……

Until then,

Mark Daniel