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(just ignore that I just popped to Ambien and an Ativan at 4:43am)

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The Rebound Guy

 

 

After 2 weeks of overcasts and melting snow men, it’s amazing how much sunshine can provide light not only outside, but inside as well. I was awoken this morning by hot stripes of sunlight across my face. Annoyed, I rolled over. It’s weird how some of us bitch and complain about the weather being so shitty at times, but when the weather is perfect, we still find a way to piss on it. But I had a reason. The night before was a disaster.

Four months ago I was out with my friend Marcus (a mess of a subject within himself). As I sucked on my cancerous Marlboro Light, I noticed a very handsome, well-built man with the lightest and most inviting gray eyes I’d ever seen. He was obviously shy, for when I’d look over at him, he’d look away. So after 3 minutes and 15 seconds of that game, Marcus and I got bored and went back inside the nightclub to continue our game of “Who You’d Let Hit It”; a game played by many homos, but we were convinced that we’d actually given it the name. We made our way to the bar to order drinks and there he was; the gray-eyed stallion. He looked even sexier inside than he did outside. But most men do anyway, due to the lack of lighting and the abundance of alcohol. As Marcus stood in line for the drinks, I went over to the gray-eyed stallion and introduced myself. His name was Miles, a financial analyst from Plano. My charms and witty banter earned me a smile. He had the same smile as my friend Becca’s ex-boyfriend and he kind of looked like him too, but without the weird, massive forehead. We traded numbers and went on with our nights. However, he started texting me after 5 minutes of me leaving the club which I thought was cute but I ignored it (mainly, because I had a boyfriend).

Three months later, my boyfriend, a puzzle I’ve yet to figure out, breaks up with me due to his current midlife crisis. Immediately, I call Marcus up for a date. I admit, it was fast; but when your 44 year old boyfriend of 8 months tells you his “heart isn’t in this”, “you should see other people”, and “I don’t want to owe my time to anyone” all via email, you kind of need something to cushion the blow. Give me credit for not quitting my job and developing a drug or alcohol dependency like the other rejected twinks of the neighborhood. But I digress.

He picked me up in his Acura, which he was leasing. I found that to be a bit odd for a financial analyst to be leasing a car. The windows of the driver and passenger sides were horribly scratched. He explained that his ex-partner’s shih tzu had taken a liking to trying to claw her way through the glass when placed inside. With a raised eyebrow, I wondered if I’d be the next bitch to be clawing his way out.
We watched a movie at the Angelika and had drinks at a bar afterwards. He was such a gentleman throughout the night that I decided to invite him in at the end of the night. He looked sexier in the buff. Broad shoulders, sculpted abs, and the chiseled chest most gym rats thrive for. Who cared about puzzles, midlife crises, and breakup emails? I was about to get laid by someone who could be on the cover of Men’s Fitness! I couldn’t wait for encounter # 2.

Encounter #2: He tells me my hole feels like Christmas. Yes, during sex he tells me my hole reminds him of reindeer, candy canes, and a big fat white guy with a fetish for little people. Yes, it was the holiday season, but come on! How does one respond to that? Moan louder with affirmation or grow mute with your jaw on your chest and a blank stare on your face? I chose the latter.

For the next six weeks, we went out to nice restaurants, new bars, and art events. I even figured out a clever way to prevent him from blurting out anything remotely bizarre during bedtime fun. Two fingers to the lips seemed to do the trick, so I thought. After a few times, the outbursts seemed to worsen and become more uncomfortable. Once, in the middle of a little oral pleasure, he said “I think it’s so hot that you want to get tickets to Equus next week”. When I confronted him about his inappropriate outbursts he became embarrassed. His gray eyes sunk and face reddened to the shade of a Louboutin sole. I felt so horrible that I decided to just ignore his awkward comments and just let him say whatever he wanted.
On our last date, we went to an art exhibit. While I’m trying to scope out the new works of up-and-coming Dallas artists, he’s scoping out my ass. Flattered, I smile. Then he leans in and says, “I’m wearing a cock ring for you tonight”, and moves those gray eyes towards his bulge. We go back to my place, where it seemed as though he unleashed the beast. Many comments and verbal eruptions bounced off the walls of my bedroom that wouldn’t have been appropriate mid-climax, let alone mid-stroke. For a brief moment I considered investing in ball gags. I ceased all activity and told him I had to get up early in the morning.
“On a Sunday?”
“I want to make it to early Mass.”
“You’re Catholic?”
“No.”
I ended my night watching reruns of Family Guy while putting myself into a raw cookie dough and Dorito coma.

I thought our 2-month tryst ended abruptly, even if he did have a mild case of Tourette’s. But I realize that jumping into something too quickly can be even more toxic and self-destructive than your last relationship. And when the fun ends, you can end up feeling lonelier than you did before it began. Whether it was for 9 years or a mere 9 months, one should allow themselves enough time to heal, recuperate, and identify the factors that triggered the demise of the relationship. Otherwise, prepare yourself for long nights of hot sex accompanied with off-the-wall comments that will leave you baffled and dumbfounded in the morning.

Check your balls...

Adam Levine of Maroon 5 poses for Cosmo to encourage men to check themselves for testicular cancer. But what guy (gay or straight) reads Cosmo??

Angelina Denefield

This weekend, I visited Houston-based photographer, Angelina Denefield, in her Montrose studio. I (not pictured) was lucky enough to be involved in one of her fashion shoots. A 12-hour session that my body still hasn't recovered from, but it was fun nonetheless. Now she's ready to take her photo label, Soap Box Art, to a higher plateau.

Ricky Vaughn: What does Soap Box Art mean?

Angelina Denefield: Artistic point of view, no boundaries, or limitations. It's about reflecting the imagination or compassionate stance visually, whether it's uncanny, dramatic, or suggestive. Within each frame there's a visual story for the audience to interpret, or engage in. Soap Box Art is not only a brand it's a movement.

RV: Who or what are your influences and why?

AD: I'm attracted to color. My process is to work with very vivid colors. I'm also influenced by overexaggerated things, movies, books, color. I have a very vivid imagination. David LaChappelle is also a great influence to me because he tells stories visually and I'm very fascinated by things that are strange and off balance.

RV: You've recently ventured into fashion photography. How do you make your photos stand out from other fashion photographers?

AD: They're not boring! Most photographers just put a pretty model with a man and that's the shot. That's been done already! I'd do something anthropomorphic where animal meets human. I'd achieve that look by putting a horse or tiger head on a human. You'll see the fashion but you'll definitely notice the man in the horse head. He'll be fashionably dressed, but you'll want to engage in the photo and want to know more about the storyline behind it. It gives you more to think about than the standard male and female modelesque photograph. I also like to add the the "Slap Yo Mama" effects in pictures, meaning that you'll be so intrigued by the photograph, it'll make you want to slap your mama. I also, like to add people in the photo that will speak to the average crowd. I like reality and like representing realistic people. Every model doesn't have to be super-skinny. Just real.

RV: How do you choose your locations and subjects?

AD: Locations and subject go hand in hand to me. I decide the concept first, then scout the location. The last photoshoot I did was a dollhouse theme. So I wanted a creepy, embellished feel. I play off subject matter to find location.

RV: Do you rely on lighting or computer manipulation?

AD: Lighting! I love great lighting. I hate having to sit behind a computer doing photoshop. I don't want my pictures to be over-processed because then it looks cheesy and expected. I rely on my light.

RV: One of your recent projects involved aguy wearing a horse's head. What's the story behind that bizarre concept?

AD: Give that horse back its hair! It was played off of insults from highschool. A certain group of guys would taunt girls for wearing hair weaves. They would scream "Girl, that's not all your hair! Give it back to the horse!" And in that particular photo, you see the horse actually taking it back.

RV: If you weren't a photographer, what would you be doing?

AD: I probably wouldn't be breathing! I couldn't fathom it! Cut off my damn leg! (laughs) No, seriously, I'd probably be making films. I'd jump from photo to video. I need the arts!

RV: What direction do you plan on taking Soap Box Art?

AD: Towards politics and intellectualism. I want to keep it fun and lighthearted though. I want it to be ever-evolving because my mind is ever-evolving. I don't want it boxed in. There will always be a trueness behind the visuals. Intellectual, visual stimulation. We will not hold back, regardless of how touchy the subject matter may be.

 Check out her site: www.soapbox-art.com