Choosing Myself

I remember when I was a kid I was watching Beverly Hills 90210. In a famous scene where I am ashamed to say I got emotionally invested, Kelly had two suitors. One was Brendan Walsh, the self-righteous good guy import from Minnesota. The other was the trust fund tormented on again/off drug addicted bad boy Dylan McKay. As they are jockeying for her, Kelly tells them, “I choose me.”

Yes. I am ashamed I know this and it is etched in my memory. I am a child of the 90s, which means I have watched all the Lifetime Moment of Truth Movies. Yes, Kellie Martin is my oppressed woman spirit animal.

However, it makes sense for this next part of the blog so bear with me.

Fast forward many years later. I am crashing the Gay Pride Parade with my boss Bruce and my friend B. I am dressed in an outfit from my costume box. B is dressed like Diana Ross. And Bruce is himself. Of course we had a new adage to our group, a youngster by the name of Juicy with rainbow socks who sometimes spoke in an English accent, and sometimes a Jersey accent. Perhaps he was trying to be Madonna. Bruce was making the most of his Pride trip, and had his Grindr app out and ready to go.

When not running the singing telegram company, Bruce is a meditation expert and yogi. When I freak out over the phone Bruce is always telling me to breathe. He is telling me to come to peace with the crazy. Then again, it’s easy for Bruce. He always has some hot guy in his bed.

The morning had been a crazy one. I had gone to church, and now was getting ready for Pride. While the label of the church I attend is Christian, I consider myself more of a Believer. The reason I use that tag is because I grew up with so called Christians who were hateful people. The only way God was ever going to love you was if you were straight and white. Otherwise you were Shit Outta Luck. My belief is God didn’t make a mistake when he created anyone, and assholes come in all shapes, sizes, and orientations. Same with good people. So yeah, in the words of the Monkeys, “I’m a believer!” Okay, bad joke.

Anyway, on my way to the parade, I was walking past the community center of sorts. This weird fringe church rents it out. In NYC, space is expensive, and when you can make extra money on the space you do it. And when I say these people are bizarre, they scare the living willies out of me. But their money is green like everyone elses, right? Anyway, this unfortunate looking young woman was standing out front, scowling. Apparently, her belief system is once you turn your life and will over to whatever crazy God they worship you have to throw away your comb and say goodbye to MAC cosmetics because they are made by Satan. She had mousy brown hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in several weeks let alone combed, Ramona Quimby freckles, and a blue shirt with a Bible quote. Yes, we are talking a stable individual. Because all normal people just have those clothing items laying around.

I would have had no problem with God girl except for what she said when she saw me walking down the street in my costume. She said to her friend wearing a red shirt with a Bible verse, “I can’t believe my eyes. Look at that thing. You better get the children inside before it comes any closer.”

I don’t know what was worse, her fashion sense or her shitty personality. No wonder good Christian men look at porn, Jesus! Plus to even indicate I might hurt children is just terrible and asinine on so many levels. But she was bitching because she knew I was headed to the Gay Pride Parade. Why else would I be wearing a flamboyant outfit, and why else would she be seething and scowling? So basically this was a Twat for Jesus. Even in the most liberal city in America, it’s amazing how bigots still are wolves dressed in sheep’s clothing. This is why Upworthy continues to fight. Idiots unfortunately have opinions and homophobia is alive and well.

Nonetheless, I shook off the Twat for Jesus when I got to the parade. Bruce is an expert parade crasher. I did not know this until he told a white lie. We were late and were trying to catch up with our float. As we crashed, we picked up Juicy as I mentioned. Finally, we decided on the Google float because it had the best music. We danced alongside this group of strangers. Officer E, my gay puppet, nicknamed Officer Handsome and Officer Bottom by my gays on various occasions, marched/crashed with us as well. He was frisking gay boys and kissing the ladies. Skipping down the street, I high fived and hugged strangers. It was peaceful and fun. Rumor has it the cops fight over who will work the Pride Parade because there are never any fights. Seriously, they throw sparkles and make the world pretty? How could you hate the gays?

Down the street, a young woman recognized me from television. Actually, she recognized Officer E from his Travel Channel clip. I was just there. She hugged me, kissed me on the lips, and without warning shoved her tongue down my throat. She was quite beautiful so I didn’t mind. Plus in the state of New York I can have both an ex-husband and an ex-wife if I so desire. However, some warning about the tongue would have been nice.

After having a stranger’s tongue shoved down my throat, which made me feel pretty because it had been a long winter, I came across a church supporting the Parade. They held up signs that said, “God created you, knew what he was doing, and Jesus thinks you are FABULOUS!” I wish Twat for Jesus could have seen that. I wish she could have seen me being tongue kissed by a stranger and Bruce on his Grindr app getting lucky. Then her head would explode. That would truly be an act of God. Unfortunately, she was probably getting anal from some closeted kid who was too ashamed to come out because he still needs to graduate from his Christian high school. And plus he can dream she’s a dude and anal doesn’t count, right?

We ended up joining the float of the gay football team for a bit. And basically we danced for forty blocks. As the parade wound down, and Officer E got a shout out from the drag queen emcee, Bruce and I found ourselves in deep conversation.It was about love. It was about distinguishing between love and love/hate. We agreed that love/hate was always bound to end in disaster because it would turn to pure hate. Bruce explained people entered into these relationships because they always wanted to be chosen. They were desperate to be chosen, therefore putting out something that wasn’t real to the world. Bruce explained that is why you must always choose you.

He told me once I figured out who I was completely, it would be easier to choose myself. And that way I could find a relationship that was not only loving but real. It was because I would find a partner that chose himself. And because we chose ourselves we wouldn’t be desperate and wouldn’t put out something to the world that was fake. This was deep, way deep. It was also true.

It made perfect sense on a core level. When it came to love I never chose myself. My disaster of an engagement was me choosing someone else and making him my Higher Power because I believed no one would ever want me. Instead, I found myself isolated from my friends and family because I didn’t want them to know how badly I was really being treated.

Then I chose a number of people who weren’t worthy of my company, and got upset when they didn’t choose me. Most of the time I felt like my brain was being sucked out, and I was wasting my time doing stupid shit with these shitheads. Finally, I found a guy who treated me alright. Everyone around me pressured me to choose him. I did. I figured he was a lawyer and I could have a great life. But he ended up being one of the biggest liars I have ever met. This dude could lie about the weather and do it with a straight face.

Why me? I didn’t deserve this. But yes I did kind of. I was being inauthentic and was desperate to be treated well after being used as a punching bag. Everyone was quick to point out he had a job and I was forced into the relationship by those around me. I chose him and I chose what I thought I was. I didn’t choose me.

During various points in my life, I found myself desperate and wanting things, only to have them repelled by the universe. Bruce explained because of my state of desperation I wasn’t giving them the option of accepting me. He explained to envision my day, and choosing what I would want to do during that day and time. Rather than having my time wasted by idiots doing stupid things, etc. Bruce explained when I did this, my world would materialize and everything would open up to possibility.

As we had this discussion, I saw all the young gay kids. These days, they are coming out as teenagers it seems. They were only starting to do that in my time. Seeing them made me realize these kids lived in a world that not only doesn’t want us to choose ourselves, but they were being told on a larger scale not to choose themselves because what they were was wrong. They had the finger pointed at them by mobs of morons like Twat for Jesus. Already, none of us ever feel good enough from time to time for any variety of reasons. But this was making it worse.

Suddenly, there was a part of me that felt super, duper important for crashing the Pride Parade with B and Bruce. I was letting these kids know it was okay to be who you were, no matter who that person was, as long as you lived and loved safely without injury to yourself or others. I was letting these kids know that they counted. Yes, they could choose themselves. That way they didn’t have to choose something else like a partner who treats them like crap or any other time wasting vice.

Or maybe we are just giving ourselves too much credit.

I also thought of Bruce, and how spiritual he is. He is loving and accepting of all beings, even his most difficult of clients. The Twat for Jesus on the other hand is judgmental, bigoted, and a hateful bully. I grew up with shitheads like her. Of course, this made me want to see Bruce fight the Twat for Jesus. He would kick her ass with his mind waves and meditation vibes.

And then I thought of it. Unfortunately, she wasn’t reading the Bible. If she did she would know Jesus was a peace lover, accepted all people, and by all standards would be a socialist today. Instead, she is embracing hate speech that probably aren’t even her own words. If she was asked to explain her beliefs, she probably couldn’t do it. The poor thing is so confused and probably doesn’t have a cohesive thought of her own. Most bigots who hide behind the shield of empty faith and misused Bible quotes don’t. She’s not choosing to have her own thoughts. She isnt choosing to ask questions. She isnt choosing her. Poor thing, no wonder she is so lost.

As I get older, I get better about accepting who I am, liking it, and going with the program. I look like a baby doll that escaped from a toy store. My hair is bright blonde. I talk like a red neck chipmunk on meth. I am exceedingly eccentric but am good under pressure. I am a puppet master, singing telegram deliverer, and verbose writer.

I am also stressed out host/producer. So come to my show/book signing at Don’t Tell Mama 343 W. 46 st.

And when all the forces of nature are pulling me and I feel stressed and like I am not enough, a desperate woman. I will look them in the eye and say, “I choose me!”