Monday. Bill and I restarted counseling today. This time with a male counselor, Phillip Beansprout, a gay male counselor. We didn’t want to explain all the secret handshakes to a straight counselor so we asked for a new one. We saw the last one tonight, Carol Howell♪ as we were waiting to see Phillip Beansprout. I felt guilty since I instigated the fact I didn’t want to see Carol again.

Bill was cool and stated that she was a professional and it probably doesn’t bother her at all. Once she got in the elevator that seemed to take a mighty long time to arrive, I felt better. The place still reminds me of a sex club, lot of rooms. A man wearing nothing but a towel wouldn’t look entirely out of place there.

Phillip Beansprout showed up and escorted us to the room through the offices. Various other therapists getting ready to see their patients, or getting ready to go home after seeing their patients. It was a larger room than the last one we had.

Bill and I sat on the couch opposite Phillip. His first question, ‘Why were we there?’ was a good one. I started off and told him why I thought we were there. Skimmed over the year and change freeze out by Bill, which led Phillip to ask Bill why things were the way they were. And Bill told him. Then I told him, then Bill told him some more.

Phillip pointed out how sensitive Bill was about things. Everyone is sensitive about certain things in their life, one shouldn’t be ashamed about them nor made to feel ashamed about them.

Phillip seems astute and pretty much in the know. The only thing that had to be explained was ‘feeling’, as in “Bill wasn’t feeling the pre-game entertainment”. Just not into it. A funny thing is the night I first met Bill and we rode the subway together, when we sat on the seat on the train I said to him, ‘I’m feeling you kid’. Here we are years later explaining to a couples counselor what ‘feeling’ means.

I clearly enjoyed Phillip more than Bill did. He did feel ganged up on but the particular problems that we are facing that caused our rift a few months ago was from his non communication in every sense of the word.

The first question asked was ‘Why were we there?’ That is the situation that got us there, non-communication. That is why we were there.

So it was a positive session for me, hopefully for Bill and hopefully for us. I think we’re going to stick with this and see where it goes.

Then there is the sullen ride home. We don’t really talk to each other until we get home.
Such emotional opening deserves some peace. This is only our second session, but I enjoy the fact that once we’re home we’re rested and able to talk about the therapy.

Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Take what you have learned and go with it. That is what we’re gonna do.

The Costanza rule works. Just look frustrated and everyone will think you are busy. I constantly look frustrated, thereby creating the illusion that I am constantly busy. But I am busy despite what it may look like. Today was relatively busy with quite a few activities that kept me away from the office. Lot’s of running around midtown, and I timed it well enough to be able to do whatever it was that I wanted to do within the proper time frame.

The sun was out, the Ipod plugged in and I was boppin all over the place. I even had to go back to the same place twice due to a mistake that I had made and was able to mosey on over. Plenty of friendly glances that I am getting better at returning. I always look people in the eye if they’re looking at me. Straight men avert their eyes, gay men will look right back at you.

Lot’s of eye candy out there today. Nice shirts and ties and exceptional suited men. A wonderful Manhattan afternoon that I was able to use fully to my advantage. I had a hankering for Smokey Robinson and the Miracles singing Tears of a Clown, but it somehow never got loaded into the Ipod over the weekend.

I settled for the English Beat covering Tears of a Clown and that set me off on a 2 Tone binge. Perfect. Great stuff. Thought about Miriam and thought about Susan Sher. Two women I know who were both into Ska almost as much as I was. And when I say Ska, I mean 2 Tone, meaning The Specials, The Selecter, Madness and the English Beat. The British Ska Revival of the late 1970’s.

The Special were it for me man. Interracial, singing about politics, violence and having babies at too young an age. I sent my nephew Earl a cd of the Specials first record, hoping that it would make an impression. Whether it did I don’t know. I even turned Julio onto the Specials. For me the Specials were amazing. I never saw the original band, just a reconstituted line up in the 1990’s. No Terry Hall or Jerry Dammers, but the rest were there with a room full of mainly guys singing as nasally as they could to sound like Terry.

Some of my personal politics can be traced to the Specials first record. It made an impact on a lot of people of my generation. I even remember the day I bought it at Korvettes in 1979 the same day I bought The Pretenders and Wreckless Eric, all records I treasure to this day even if I have no idea where they physically are.

I even sat waiting for the bus at the Bergen Mall talking to an elderly woman about the records I had just purchased. I was so enthusiastic and I guess it was noticeable. I started dressing in tight peg legged pants that I paid someone at work, Emma Fairnot, 5 dollars a pair to hem. She did the best she could and I didn’t know any better.

Most everything started to get 2 Tone, black and white checkerboard in my life. Even turned a metal head at school onto the Specials. Turned him onto PiL and the Clash as well. Whatever happened to Tom Pressey?

It was just great to walk around sunny Midtown Manhattan grooving and bopping to 2 Tone. I should’ve done it 25 years ago, but things don’t always work out as planned, even in hindsight.

Walked down to Chelsea after work to see if the guys who told me about the Gauloises coming in today, were telling the truth. He seemed sincere and was mad cute, but didn’t have them in. He told me to try tomorrow and he’s cute enough to warrant a walk for 45 minutes to stand in front of a counter for a minute or two.

I opted for a phone number instead.