Depressive mood. Unhappiness, displeasure. Weight loss. Fearfulness. Sleeping problems (wake up early) Guilt feelings. Suicide thoughts. Indecisiveness. Attribution of the problem: sickness. General. Low vitality. Burnout. Anger, aggression. Low pleasure. No weight symptoms. No fearfulness. Sleeping problems (difficulty to fall asleep) Guilt feelings. No suicide thoughts. Indecisiveness (complaint) Attribution of the problem: work. Work-related. Moderate vitality.
Hello, my friends who are fighting whatever mental imbalance you are fighting! Hang in there! So, today I decided to tackle something I honestly don’t have a lot of knowledge or expertise in, but is VERY prevalent and very real for a lot of people – and that is DEPRESSION.
Before I continue, I want to go on the record by stating this post is basically stream of consciousness on my thoughts about the subject of depression. I am by no means an expert on the subject. And by all means, feel free to weigh in and add your thoughts in the comment section below if you are a person who does suffer from depression. Thank you!
I look at depression as being in a very, very sad state. However, I have learned over the years that it is much more than that. I have learned that the difference between sadness and depression is that sadness can be just a short period of time. We all have sad feelings from time to time, but that doesn’t necessarily mean those feelings stay with us. With depression, those feelings stay with us much longer to the point of affecting our everyday lives.
I have been depressed before, because of circumstances or life events or even just life in general. And I do not consider myself to be a depressed person. But there are those who suffer greatly from it to the point of needing medication.
But then there is burnout, something I do have a lot of experience with. And yes, I am absolutely burned out, and I am not talking about a house. I know that feeling only too well, where you are exhausted – mentally and physically.
Perhaps you feel that you cannot go on. I do have all of the motivation to conduct my business, but I feel just blah sometimes. As Lucy Ricardo would say, “I feel like a real slob.” Sometimes I really don’t wish to do a damn thing. Do you ever feel like that? This pandemic has not helped by any stretch of the imagination. This truly sucks!!
To be honest, I don’t feel like going to work now thanks to the hell this pandemic has reigned down upon us, with all of its restrictions and masks and social distancing. And vaccinated and boosted people are still getting sick. I am both vaccinated and boosted. Does that mean I am going to get it (again), too? Now that is VERY depressing!!!!
Now for some deeper dives.
Depression
As I see it, depression, again, is a deep feeling of loss and sadness. It can be brought on by so many factors: Job loss. Loss of a family member or friend through death. The breakup of a relationship or friendship. A move to a new town or place. A pandemic. There are so many things that can make someone depressed.
But what if everything is going well, and you are STILL depressed? I am no doctor, but I believe this is when we get into clinical or chemical depression rather than a cause and effect sort of situation.
However, depression brings up a whole heck of a lot more feelings than just the generic sad feeling. There can be feelings of hopelessness, irritability, or even thoughts of suicide, as well.
My Personal Experience and Bout With Depression
Giving an example from my own life – and there are many on the subject of depression – there was a point in time when I thought I was going to prison. Gasp!! That’s right. PRISON! This was back in 2002, and I am not sure how many people know the story, with the exception of my immediate family. But to cut to the chase, I was let go from my then employment. As revenge, I deleted files from my computer that I had created. Little did I know that that was a federal offense.
I was later arrested and faced charges of criminal trespass, which I had never even heard of. Oh it was a mess! The waiting was torture!! I did fall into a very deep depression. It was the only time when I really didn’t want to eat, and that most certainly is not like me!!! I lost a bunch of weight. I slept a lot. And unfortunately, my personality disorder returned. I dissociated big time! It was awful!!!!!
The face of someone who turned to other personalities to help me cope.
I agonized for months wondering if I was going to spend the next 10 years in prison. Well, at least I would have had a boyfriend. 😂🤣😍 Fortunately, it all worked out, because $5,000 later to an attorney, I was fortunately able to get out of the charge and even had it expunged from my record. But the depression was very real. And I cannot believe that was 20 years ago.
Burnout
To me, burnout is lacking the energy or motivation to do anything. You just feel tired and lethargic. I would imagine work is, perhaps, the number one source of burnout. And I can see why. Going to the same place everyday – or at least five days out of a week, if you’re lucky. Some people go more than that and work long hours, which can certainly lead to burnout. But going to this place where you don’t want to go in the first place, dealing with people you wouldn’t even piss on let alone be trapped with for eight hours a day or more. I mean, let’s call a spade a spade here, shall we? Anyhoo, putting up with corporate BS from people who don’t have anything better to do with their lives than be a total bitch or bastard at work. Did I nail it or what?
My Own Personal Burnout
My burnout stems from the fact that I am just tired of working. And I really would like to be retired. I am not kidding about that. I know that we all get sick of working, but this pandemic with its restrictions has made me really think about this hard. This year, I am turning 55, and to me that is a nice retirement age – though unrealistic considering I definitely don’t have the funds to do so adequately. Damnit!!!
The Feelings from Both
Depression
Depressed mood
Unhappiness
Lack of motivation
Fearfulness
Sleep problems
Suicidal ideation
Lack of hope
Feeling down
Don’t feel like doing anything
Feeling extremely fatigued
Feeling stressed
Guilty feelings
Weight loss
(Again, I am not an expert on depression. The above list is a compilation from sources, as well as my own personal experience and thoughts on the matter. I defer to people who really suffer from depression.)
Burnout
Lack of motivation
Doing the same thing over and over again with no break
Not able to relax
Sleep problems
Feeling stressed
Anxiety
Feeling fatigued
No fearfulness
No suicidal ideation
Typically work-related
Guilty feelings
No weight symptoms
I see from the above list (the source listed below), the similarities have to do with feeling guilty, having sleep problems, lack of motivation, feeling stressed, and feeling fatigued.
Where they differ appears to be with regards to weight where with depression there is a potential for weight loss, whereas with burnout that isn’t necessarily the case. Also, there appears to be no suicidal ideation with burnout. And of course, just because someone is depressed, doesn’t necessarily mean they have suicidal thoughts, either.
Also, burnout seems to be more work-related. Though I would argue it could be anything where you are doing the same thing over and over again with no break.
Another difference would be with depression, there may be a prevalence of fear, whereas with burnout that doesn’t appear to be the case.
Okay. I JUST said it to myself after taking a break from working on this post. “I’m tired.” Why am I tired? What am I tired of or from? And am I really tired? The best way for me to answer my own questions is that I feel like I need some sort of a break. I suppose I should explain the reference of me being “tired.” I have to work in about 45 minutes, remotely thankfully. But I don’t want to. It isn’t the Zoom, though I can understand that people are burned out from logging into Zoom. I am not. I feel that this particular job, which isn’t my main job, is tiring mentally in so many ways.
Okay. Let’s unpack this some more. With this particular job, the boss is a bit too micro managey for my taste. Also, I feel shut down whenever I give my opinion. I feel as though I am being told what to say just to keep things “faux positive.” This truly tires me out. There is way too much hand holding, and I don’t care for that at all. So, yes I am tired and perhaps a bit BURNED OUT!!!
But I do not wish to leave on such a negative note. Some tips to help with either burnout or depression:
Talk to someone about it. It can be a friend who is a good listener or a professional.
Step away from the problem (if it is burnout).
Take a walk.
Listen to music.
Read.
My personal favorite BREATHE!
I know that with depression, it isn’t that easy. That is why I strongly urge speaking to a professional. Please follow the link below.
Again, please forgive my rambling and stream of consciousness on the matter. By all means, feel free to disagree with me or tell me your own personal experiences with either depression or burnout in the comment section below.
That is all I have today, my dear friends. So, until the next time, and as always, please be safe and mentally well!!!
DEREK’S DISCLAIMER: I am not a medical professional, neither am I giving any medical or legal advice. If you are seeking help from a doctor or an attorney, please consult said professionals. These are my personal thoughts and feelings on the subjects discussed, and my blog is my own personal experiences and journey with mental imbalance. Thanking you in advance!
AFFILIATE DISCLAIMER: There are products on this page. By clicking on the links, you will be redirected to that page at no cost to you. However, I will receive compensation if you purchase something (which I hope you do 😊).
Hello, my pals! And welcome backl! I do hope this new blog post finds you well in the New Year! I know the Omicron is a BEAST! But hang in there. I really do believe we shall prevail!
At any rate, I have decided to wade the waters of when your mind constantly thinks something bad is going to happen to you. I may have come across a concrete name for it: Anticipatory anxiety. Although, there could be other ways to describe it – catastrophizing or my new one – “futurizing” – where you (well, your mind) conjures of these worst-case scenarios that could happen in your life. Mine is blindness as I have discussed previously, all because years ago I went down the rabbit hole of researching eye floaters, which I do have. And ever since then, it has been sort of stuck in my head off and on that ‘Oh my God! Having these things could lead to blindness!’ which is such a rarity. However, my brain latched onto it anyway. So, this is just an example.
I entitled today’s blog post The Dark Victory Syndrome, because the backstory for me is that when I was about 9 years old back in 1976, I saw the FABULOUS Elizabeth Montgomery of Bewitched fame in the remake of Dark Victory, which the effervescent Bette Davis had starred in back in 1939. Well, at 9 years of age, this was my first encounter with the movie. I did not know at the time about the Bette Davis original.
Well, to cut to the chase [SPOILER ALERT!!!!] the movie is about a woman who discovers that she has a brain tumor. She experiences all of the horrible symptoms of a brain tumor: Severe headaches, double vision, and extreme dizziness, and Elizabeth’s character even takes a nasty tumble down a flight of stairs at a party. The character goes in for tests, and the doctor, portrayed by Sir Anthony Hopkins of Silence of the Lambs delivers the crushing news that she has a brain tumor. She is operated on, but the doctor who has fallen in love with her realizes that her situation is terminal and is only able to remove part of the tumor. He does not tell her the truth (and why Michelle Lee’s character who is Elizabeth’s bestie knows and she doesn’t is beyond me!!). Eventually, she will experience blindness and then later die.
Following the surgery and going on with her life (and sporting a HORRIBLE wig!!), she later realizes that the doctor (and Michelle Lee) kept the truth from her. She is rightfully pissed with both of them. However, she decides to forgive them both, even to the point of being in a relationship with the doctor! Well, Hollywood likes to romanticize things, of course. Sadly, she does begin to experience some of those same symptoms she does at the beginning.
I am saying all of this as the setup to say that when I saw this movie, Derek didn’t focus on the romantic aspect. Oh no. I focused on the brain tumor. I thought ‘Oh my God! Samantha – which is what I called Elizabeth’s character LOLOL – has a brain tumor, maybe I do, too!’ That is when I began checking my memory to make sure I could remember important details. I would silently say to myself my name, my address, my phone number, and my birthdate. It was awful!!
I also made sure that I could see clearly. Any headache I would get would just make things worse for me as I would obsess even more, thinking I had said brain tumor!! To quote Lucy Ricardo, “I was a mess!”
It took me MANY years later to realize that I had an obsessive mind and that I was suffering from recurring and intrusive thoughts, which is the reason why I started my blog. I now know that I am not the only one suffering from this.
Anticipatory Anxiety and Generalized Anxiety Disorder
Now, let’s talk about the anticipatory anxiety, which I did “research.” But it didn’t make things worse this time; it actually made things even clearer. Again, I wish to stress that I am NOT a medical professional by any stretch of the imagination. However, what I have been researching makes total and complete sense.
Anticipatory anxiety can be described as worrying excessively about something stressful that you have to do in the future, i.e. a presentation, visiting family especially at the holidays, a talk you have to give, an exam you have to take, etc. I also look at it as being afraid of possible future events that COULD happen, but again chances are they won’t, as I described above. For example, for me it is going blind. Back in the 80s, it was a fear of nuclear war. And according to one source, anticipatory anxiety isn’t a mental health diagnosis on its own, but it can appear as a symptom of generalized anxiety disorder.
Generalized Anxiety Disorder
Generalized anxiety disorder is worrying about everyday life. It is “marked by excessive, exaggerated anxiety and worry about everyday life events for no obvious reason. People with symptoms of generalized anxiety disorder tend to always expect disaster and can’t stop worrying about health, money, family, work, or school.”
I have suffered greatly from generalized anxiety disorder, aka GAD, ever since I was a child. Again, the fear of losing my memory, my eyesight, dying, nuclear war, etc. GAD can be inherited. It is possible that I may have inherited it from my grandmother, whom I believe suffered from the same disorder. My grandmother CONSTANTLY worried!! For such a strong, fierce, Bible-believing woman, she was afraid of something bad happening. She always worried about me just simply playing outside when I was a kid. The entire neighborhood was treated to her crooning my name to make sure I was nearby.
Because of my issues with GAD and anticipatory anxiety, I developed the intrusive thoughts due to my overall feeling of dread. If I haven’t already disclosed in earlier blog posts, I remember as far back as the age of 7 always saying to myself that I wasn’t going to make it to the next grade. And so on. And so on. For some reason, I thought I was going to die. Well, obviously that never happened, because I went all the way through not only high school and graduated, but college as well and graduated from that. All the way to 2022 where I am sitting and writing this blog. 😂😉
To tie all the pieces together, because there are many, and going back to “The Dark Victory Syndrome” as I like to call it, you think of a catastrophe. You then worry constantly about that catastrophe possibly happening to you to the point of anticipating it. And then the intrusive thoughts begin. This is how I look at this horrific puzzle of the mind.
In summation, I want to offer hope for this horrible condition. If you feel that things are too tough to handle, there is always help in the form of therapy. And if you don’t wish to drive into town for an office visit, there is always online therapy. Please follow the graphic below and check out the options. It could work for you.
Well, that is going to be it my friends. Again, please be mentally well and also physically well due to COVID and the latest strain known as the Omicron. Be safe!! And I shall chat with you next time!
DEREK’S DISCLAIMER: I am not a medical professional, neither am I giving any medical or legal advice. If you are seeking help from a doctor or an attorney, please consult said professionals. These are my personal thoughts and feelings on the subjects discussed, and my blog is my own personal experiences and journey with mental imbalance. Thanking you in advance!
Also, I do not own the copyrights to any of the YouTube posts, music, film or TV.
AFFILIATE DISCLAIMER: There are products on this page. By clicking on the links, you will be redirected to that page at no cost to you. However, I will receive compensation if you purchase something (which I hope you do 😊).
Hello dear readers and friends! Welcome back for the final chapter in this woebegone tale of love from yours truly 😀😁😊😋
The phone call
Javier and I continued corresponding on the phone throughout February of 1996. Of course he had to call me since he had no phone. My life as an acting intern at the time was pure HELL, and his phone calls and letters always cheered me up. (Well, there was one such strange letter he sent me about the frog and the scorpion, the one where the frog allows the scorpion to ride on his back across the river. But the scorpion ends up stinging the poor frog to death. Apparently this is from the movie The Crying Game. And Javier asked me in the letter what did I think it meant. Cryptically, he said it meant what it said! I should have known from that!)
He would usually call once a week and when he did, that call carried me rather happily through until the next week. We talked a lot about us, and it wasn’t long before he was talking of moving to Atlanta. Now, I did “nada” to encourage this. He came up with that idea on his own. I wasn’t about to discourage him, though. I loved the man, and I wanted to be married to him more than anything in the world. Well, as married as two men could be in this country at that time, the land of the free, where all men are created equal. NOT! I asked him if he was sure this was what he wanted. He assured me that it was. Anyway, I was going to be Mr. Derek Ratliff-Muro-Cortez or something like that!!! Or so I thought.
We talked about him coming down to visit in February. He promised he would. Then there was Valentine’s Day. I sent him a great, big old card proclaiming my undying love. I did not receive a card, not even a phone call on V-Day. It didn’t matter because I knew he was coming. Right? The Friday night he was supposed to arrive, he called up saying he was not going to be able to come because (1) he had been sick and (2) his car wasn’t going to make it. To say I was extremely disappointed was an understatement!
.
“Okay, back up Javier. You were sick?” He explained to me that he went to the clinic, and they gave him 3 shots in the butt!!! I immediately had a flashback to the time I discovered I had syphilis about six months into my sojourn in Atlanta, and the three shots I had received in the posterior assets. Long story for another time.
“Do you have syphilis or HIV, Jorge?” He told me no, he had the flu. I explained to him that I had gone through the syphilis thing, and it sounded like that with the three shots deal. As far as his car was concerned, he told me there was no way his car could make a 6-hour trip like that. I wasn’t hearing any of this.
Well, I gently told him how disappointed I was, especially in not receiving a call or a card for Valentine’s Day. He was silent. He then told me that he had shown my card to Hector, and Hector had remarked to him that he was lucky to have a man like me for a boyfriend. How nice, but I wanted Javier with me. But that wasn’t THE phone call.
THE phone call came on February 28, 1996, between 12noon and 1 p.m., because sometimes he’d call me during his lunch. I was extremely glad to hear from my man. I remarked that his English was much better. He said it was because he was talking to me. Well, he had also been going to school all this time! I hadn’t heard from him, and I was worried that I had been dumped. He laughed and said no, that if he were going to dump me he would stop calling. How comforting. (Well, he DID stop calling!!!!) He was at work, but it was a new painting job, because he had gotten fired from the other one. Oh. Then he told me that he wouldn’t be able to move to Atlanta because of his nephews. He would have to take them with him, and he just couldn’t do it. And he even used Israel’s old phrase “I’m just not free.” Well, okay so he wasn’t able to move down; it didn’t mean the end of our relationship, right? He never said so, so when I got off the phone with him I really didn’t think too much of it. I should have, because that was the last time he called me.
THE SEARCH FOR JAVIER MURO/JORGE CORTEZ
Just to sum it up, my acting internship fell apart during their production of Three Sisters. But that wasn’t the only thing that fell apart.
Following Three Sisters and when I had time, I decided to at long last, return to N.C. and ask Javier why he hadn’t called me. Dumb. Very dumb. I actually believed that maybe he had gotten deported. Or perhaps even hurt and in the hospital. So, I booked a motel room on the outskirts of Durham, and left on Friday April 19, 1996, for Durham, N.C. I was thankfully escaping Freaknik, telling myself ‘Yes, this is what and why I am escaping.’
I’m a damn good sleuth, just like Nancy Drew!
I got there and checked into the Howard Johnson off Hillandale and immediately began my search. In my motel room I began calling all the area hospitals such as Duke Memorial, Duke General, and UNC Memorial. None of them had either a Javier Muro or a Jorge Cortez listed. ‘Okay. I’ll ride over to his apartment.’ I thought. It was dark by the time I got to Juniper Street. I ascended the metal steps that you could break your ass on and knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. Okay. Out of the corner of my eye I could have sworn I saw someone peeping out of the window. I left and went back to the motel to rest. The plan was to go to The Power Company that night. Surely I’d run into him there.
I got to The Power Company and made my way into the night. I went upstairs to the upper bar and looked around. No Javier. I went back downstairs and searched in the dyke side, the white boy’s side, the mixed side, and the black side. No Javier. I went downstairs to the lower bar. NO JAVIER!!! Okay. So, I went back upstairs, ordered a drink, and sat in the mixed side. Soon, an older gentleman, who claimed to be the CEO of a major computer corporation, joined me. He tried to pick me up, and under normal circumstances I would have gone along with him. These weren’t exactly normal circumstances. When I think back on it, I should have. I slid out of the proposition, and he soon left me alone. I finished my drink and left.
The next morning, which was Saturday, I decided to head back to Juniper. I got over there convinced that someone would be there. No answer when I knocked. Just as I was leaving I noticed a family preparing to go somewhere. I decided to ask them where the leasing office was. I figured I could at least find out if he had moved. Again. I learned from the mother that the leasing office was located on the boulevard and that it wouldn’t be open again until Monday. Damn! But all was not lost. I wasn’t leaving until Monday anyway. As I was leaving, I jotted down the number to the leasing office, which was located on the side of one of the buildings in the complex. I decided to try yet another angle. I remembered that Javier had written me once and told me that his friend Rafael worked at a fast food Chinese place at Northgate Mall. I hopped in my Corsica and headed for Northgate.
Nancy Drew on the case of the missing Javier/Jorge
I got to Food Court and searched in vain for this Chinese restaurant. I did eventually find the Chinese restaurant, Formosa. No Rafael. Okay. Time to head back to the motel and regroup. I took a nap when I got there and decided to eat and go back to Juniper Street. When I got there, I noticed a light on in one of the rooms. ‘He’s home!’ I thought. I calmly walked up those metal stairs and knocked. The door opened, and I was staring face to face with some Hispanic guy I’d never seen before.
“Hello.” I said.
“Hola.”
“Is Jorge Cortez at home?”
“Huh? Jorge? You mean Javier?”
“Yes.”
“He moved.” The guy replied.
“Moved? Where?” WTF???
“I dunno.” The guy stammered. I obviously had awakened him from his nap.
“Does he live in Durham? Chapel Hill?” I asked, the desperation rising in my voice.
“He in Durham.” He replied. We were at last getting somewhere.
“Where in Durham?”
“I no remember.”
“Please try. Is it near here?”
“No, it near Duke.” Okay that’s better.
“Do you remember the name? The apartment number?” I continued.
“I’m sorry, I don’t.” This was like getting blood from a turnip.
“All right. Gracias. Does he at least come by here? Have you seen him?”
“Oh. Si!”
“Good I want to leave him a message.” I quickly got a pen and paper from my car and left my phone number and hotel room number of where I was staying.
“If you see him, please give him this.” I said.
“I will.” The tiny guy replied.
All right. So at least he hadn’t been deported. And he wasn’t laid up somewhere in some hospital. But the question was why hadn’t he called? Then I thought ‘Maybe he’ll be in Raleigh!’ So, off I went: TO CC!!!!!!
No, he wasn’t there either. Midway through the evening I decided that the little asshole just wasn’t worth it. It FINALLY began to sink in that yes, I had been dumped. The oldest game of not returning calls now known as ghosting. We didn’t have a name for it back then. LOL
I began to drink rather heavily, and soon I found myself across the street at Legends. I wanted so desperately to pick someone up, to get picked up, and this is when I noticed this cute Hispanic guy standing a few feet away. I was in the dance area at the bar, and this guy was standing on the other side of the bar. I began smiling at him, and he noticed me and began smiling back. The next thing I knew I was motioning for him to come to me. He shook his head and pointed to where he stood. What the hell, I was tipsy and I didn’t care. I went over to him and began talking to him. His English was not good at all. He was cute though, but he looked awfully familiar. I managed to find out his age, which was 25, thanks to his companion who stood next to him. The companion looked familiar, too. Well, I continued flirting with the first guy, but I liked the way the 2nd guy looked as well until I looked at them both and said, “I know both of you.”
“We’re friends of Javier’s!” the interpreter said.
OH SHIT!!!!!!! IT WAS RAFAEL AND HECTOR! No wonder they looked so familiar! I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or relieved to have found a true connection to Javier. I just dove right in.
“Where is Jorge? I haven’t heard from him. I understand he moved. Where?” I asked.
“Yes. He lives in University Apartments near Duke.” Rafael replied. YES!!!!
“Which apartment number?” I asked. Rafael thought a moment.
“2-C.” WONDERFUL!!!
“Thanks, Rafael.”
Me, Rafael, and Hector as The Three Investigators. I’m Jupiter Jones ROTFL!
Soon after our exchange, Hector and Rafael left, and I was left armed with this valuable piece of information. ‘I’ve got you now Jorge Cortez or Javier Muro or whatever you’re calling yourself!’ I thought.
The next day the plan went as follows: I checked out of the motel, and I went to Orange Grove Baptist, the same church Teresa, Javier, and I went to back in January. Afterward, I changed clothes at the park (the same park I went to with Javier when he confessed who he really was, and the same park I went to after my HIV test that time when I thought I had it. I quess this park has seen a lot of action) and set out to find University Apartments. After asking directions, it finally dawned on me that I knew where it was. Many years ago back in the summer of 1989 when I attempted to drive to a friend’s house, I ended up on that road in front of a series of apartments. I remembered that one of them was University Apartments!!!!
I got there, parked in front of the apartments, and went around back in search of the C-building. I found it and nervously made my way inside. I looked at all the doors to see which one was #2. Turned out it was upstairs, so I climbed the stairs and stood nervously outside the door. ‘Knock, dammit.’ I thought. I did and heard a female voice ask, “Who is it?” ‘It must be Maria!’ I thought. ‘But where’s the accent?’
“It’s Derek.” I replied. The person came to the door and opened it. Well, it wasn’t Maria. This chick was an older-looking lady.
“I’m sorry. I’m looking for Javier Muro.”
“No one by that name lives here.”
“Well, thank you.” The disappointment was rather high. I left thinking that Rafael did say 2-C. I decided to see if the leasing office was open, so I walked all the way to the front. No dice. Sealed tighter than Fort Knox. ‘What am I going to do?’ I thought. I headed toward the back again and entered the B-building, thinking Rafael meant “B”. I went upstairs to 2-B and was about to knock when I noticed the name “Jackson” on the door. I also heard voices inside. Very American. I guess it wasn’t Javier’s apartment. I was getting very frustrated with the whole thing. Not B. Not C. Maybe D? I tried that and knocked, but no one was home. Maybe Javier’s place? Hmmm. I looked at my watch and noticed that it was nearly 5 p.m. I knew Teresa, who was in D.C., would be back soon, and I figured I should just give up and go there.
I was leaving the D-building when I noticed a guy who looked sort of familiar coming out of the G-building. He was Hispanic, attractive, in his early 20s, but he wasn’t Javier. Yet there was something vaguely familiar about him, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it …
I was walking down the sidewalk to my car when I swear to God, a voice in my head (not to be confused with the other voices in my head) told me to drop my keys and pretend to pick them up as I turn around. After I did all of this I noticed a heavy-set female in the distance at a clothesline hanging sheets. I walked slowly towards the female, and the closer I got the more I realized that she, too, was familiar. She kept staring at me like she knew me, too. It was Maria! When I got close enough she said, “Derek?” I responded with, “Maria?” She smiled and then walked up and hugged me. I dispensed with some small talk and then asked what I was dying to know:
“Where’s Javier?”
“He spent the night in Cary. And he’s sleeping.”
So, he was inside! FINALLY! All of my detective work had paid off. Nancy Drew would be so proud!!!! Maria took me inside to “2-G!” Rafael meant “G!” (Either that or he was trying to throw me off the scent.) Once inside, I also saw the same guy who had walked out of the G-building previously. He was one of Javier’s nephews, which explained why he looked so damn familiar!
Happier times
Maria led me to one of the bedrooms, and she went to get a chair from the kitchen for me to sit. She then sat on the floor and smiled at me. I just assumed that she had gone to wake Javier when she got the chair. I stared at her for a second, then I told her that I thought Javier was there. Miscommunication. Turned out that in her broken English, she was actually telling me that Javier had spent the night in Cary and that he was still in Cary! He had gone to a party and had stayed over. He was coming back that day. She promptly informed me that Javier didn’t have a boyfriend, as far as she knew. Thanks for the info, Maria. I asked her when he was returning. She figured he’d be back around 8 p.m. that night. I told her I’d be back, but first I left Teresa’s number where he could reach me.
I caught up with Teresa at her apartment around 6 p.m. and began to explain to her why I was there and what had happened. We were interrupted by a visit from a friend of hers, Sharon. Without shame I told my tortured saga of Jorge Cortez. Midway through the story the phone rang, Teresa answered it and told me that IT WAS JAVIER! I calmly walked to the phone.
“Jorge! How are you!”
“Fine. And you?”
“I’m fine. Jorge, I need to see you. Where are you?”
“I’m at a pay phone and then I gotta get some groceries, but then I’ll be home later.”
“Do you mind if I stop by to see you later?”
“No, I don’t mind,” he replied.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Are you really sure?”
“Yes.”
“I mean it is all right?”
“Yes!” He sounded a little irritated. I guess it was all right.
We set a time of 9 p.m. I got off the phone with him and told Teresa and Sharon what had happened. I also explained that I was leaving to meet him. Teresa told me that she’d see me tomorrow. I chuckled and said that I’d be back that night. She said no, she’d see me tomorrow.
I was late arriving at University Apartments. I went to the same outside door to G-building I was at earlier that day, but this time it was locked. I should have taken that as a sign. I knocked and knocked and knocked until a short, sexy little man wearing no shirt came to the door! It was Javier, and damn he looked good!!
‘I am not going to let him seduce me. It is over. I am going to tell him off and then I’m going to leave. He’s going to have to have a damn good reason for not calling me, to make me stay!’ I thought.
He opened the door, and smiling, he immediately hugged me.
“Why did you come to the back?” He asked.
“It’s really the only entrance I know.”
He led me upstairs to 2-G and to his bedroom. The same seat that Maria had for me was waiting for my confused ass to plop down into. So, I parked it and Jorge sat on the floor opposite me, staring at me wide-eyed. I just jumped right in, telling him that I wasn’t going to put up with his not calling me anymore, that basically I had had to look for him, and I did it to say good-bye. He sat there in silence. Then he said, “Give me another chance.” I looked at him, for I really didn’t know what to say. He then told me that his brother, the father to his nephews, had been murdered in Mexico! I sat in stunned silence! I don’t remember the details of Javier’s story, but I remembered what I had thought previously about that good reason. I guess this was it. I asked why Rafael, Maria, or Hector hadn’t said anything about it? He told me I would have to ask them.
Well, I gave him that 2nd chance and we made up. He stood up, walked over to me, and sat in my lap. We kissed and then we stood up. He grabbed my ass, and I picked him up and we ended up on the floor, rolling around smooching. He then asked if I was hungry and wanted to get something to eat. I told him sure, then we took off for Ham’s on Franklin Street. As we were leaving the building, Maria, Rafael, and Hector, who were outside at this point, stared at us.
While we were there, Javier kept asking me if I noticed anything different about him. I studied and studied and studied and studied him like he was a piece of sheet music I had to sightread at All State. I couldn’t tell a thing. Finally he told me he had shaved his eyebrows in the space between his eyes where it connected. Okay. He didn’t order anything to eat, just Coke, no ice. By the time we left, it was close to midnight. I didn’t want to leave him, so we drove to Carrboro Park. We couldn’t get in because the gate was up. So, I parked outside the gate, and he and I talked.
I wanted to know more about his brother. He didn’t say a whole lot about him. He had brought a Spanish magazine with him and began to read aloud from it. Something he read kind of reminded him of his brother, and he sort of teared up. I touched him and we looked at each other. Soon we were in each other’s arms again, kissing and nibbling. I suggested we get in the back seat. We did; he pulled off his shirt, and I undid his pants. And yes, we had sex. Afterward, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Bright and early the next morning we drove to Teresa’s. Javier stayed in the car while I went inside. I was a bit embarrassed because she had been right; I did stay out all night with Javier. She had company of her own; a man was asleep in her bedroom. She didn’t waste time. We said our good-byes there, and I promised I’d call once I got back to Atlanta. Then I took Javier home.
Javier helped me take my bag inside so I could shower and change. After he showered and changed, he came back clad in only a towel. He shyly put his underwear on underneath the towel and took the towel off. I remarked on what a magnificent body he had! His legs were so muscular, and his stomach had ripples! And his chest was slightly built! I told him we should go swimming sometime. He grinned. I noticed a picture of his 3-year-old daughter, Jessica, and remarked that she was going to grow up to be a heartbreaker like her father. He laughed.
After we both got dressed, we dined in high style at the Waffle House on Hillsborough. He then asked me to take him to check on his car. It wasn’t ready so we drove back to Carrboro Park, where we walked and talked and spent one of the most romantic moments I’ve ever experienced in my life.
Carrboro Park
He told me that one day he’d like to build a house in Mexico. I would never want him to leave. We walked around the park until we got to the spot where I broke down in October 1989 after Phil rejected me. If only Javier knew… We laid a blanket out, and I got my boom box, and we lay on the blanket. It was midday and yes, there were people there. It did not stop us from kissing each other. I remarked that there was a couple there, and they saw us. I then asked if he cared. He said no, because it was his life. Good answer!!
Our conversation consisted of me possibly wanting to move to California some day and him not wanting to. And I also proposed to him and told him that if it took 1 year, 2 years, 5 or 10, one day we would be married to each other!
My theme song for him
We continued kissing, and soon Jorge stretched out in my lap and fell asleep. The strains of SWV’s You’re the One For Me could be heard coming from my box. It just didn’t get any better than that. I was so in love, so deeply, fully, madly in love with the man who called himself Jorge Cortez!
After the park we went to the Northgate Mall and hung out. I then took him to check on his car. Still not ready, so we headed for his apartment. In front of the McDonald’s on Morgan Street, I asked him if we were still committed to each other. And he said yes. I also made him promise to call me.
He said he would. Outside his apartment, we said our good-byes. He didn’t want to kiss in front of his building, so I took him around the corner of his apartment building in my car where we shared what was to be our last kiss. I then brought him back to the front of the building after I made him promise he’d call me. Once again he said he would. He then sat on the stoop outside his building and watched me pull off for Atlanta. Good-bye Javier. BECAUSE THIS TIME IT WAS GOOD-BYE!
As I pulled away, I got this feeling that it was over, that it should probably be over. I made a promise to myself that if he didn’t call me within a week, that I would deem it over and go on with my life. AND A WEEK WENT BY AND NO PHONE CALL!!! GOOD-BYE JORGE CORTEZ/JAVIER MURO!!!!
So, that was pretty much that. However, what was VERY strange is that I DID continue to run into him. The day we buried my grandmother in February of 1998, afterward I went to CC in Raleigh and saw him at Legend’s!! We chatted. He supposedly had a boyfriend at this point. However, he stuck to my side like glue the ENTIRE night! Come to think of it, I had no idea where the boyfriend was. And other people noticed and thought we were a couple.
Later that year in 1998, I was working for a certain touring troupe, which shall remain nameless, and we actually traveled to Raleighwood!! I did get in touch with him then, and he actually came to see me perform! Also, later that summer, I traveled back to North Carolina to do a show at Snow Camp and ran into him at a club in Greensboro. One time only the entire summer. I believe he gave me his number, too, which I called and he had already moved!!!
And a couple of years after that, oddly enough, I started running into him in Atlanta!!! Once was during one of our gay pride celebrations at Piedmont Park. And another time actually at the club formerly known as Burkhart’s. (And he had the NERVE to give me his number, which I never used. At this point, I knew how the game was played!) What was stranger, is that my brother was visiting that weekend, and I had dragged him to the gay bars with me!! LOL He and Javier actually met!! On the ride to the Eagle, I told him how Javier almost ended up being his brother-in-law. Yeah. Right.
From August 2002, one of the times he ventured to Atlanta – FINALLY!
Another time I even ran into him at Taco Cabana, the picture from above, where he told me he was going to move to Atlanta. 😂😂😂. And of course that NEVER happened. That night, he also told my friends that I had changed. That I was ‘mean and I used to be sweet and kind.’ What. Ever. I suppose dealing with men who make promises they don’t keep has a tendency to do that to someone. 😁🙂🤩
And I was to later learn that a friend of mine’s ex-boyfriend had a brief encounter with Javier! He actually SAW the twin once and thought it was Javier! I can’t make this stuff up! Me and this guy spent a lot of time swapping stories about Javier/Jorge!
In summation, when I read over all of this, it actually makes me sick to think that I was so stupid and so gullible. You see, all of the above is part of the reason why I am still single and don’t fall for men and their lines any more. Bitter party of One?? Perhaps. But I don’t have time for foolishness like this, because it is not good for my overall mental wellbeing.
And to this day, I have no idea where he is. And I don’t care. Actually, just for funsies last year, I decided to look him up on Facebook. And I found that he lives in Arizona, but the year of his profile pic was from 2017 or 2018. So, he could still be there. Or somplace else. He, of course, enjoyed being nomadic. Wherever he is, I do wish him well, though.
More recent pic of the man, the myth from circa 2018
I learned A LOT during this experience. For one, NEVER chase after a man. Also, accept that when it is over, it is over, as well as accept things at FACE VALUE, i.e. the use of another name, not returning phone calls, excuses, etc. And most importantly, that I am a damn good super sleuth!! Especially that one!! LOLOL
Well, that is going to wrap up this sad, sad tale, yet a great learning lesson. I will be back in TWO WEEKS with another post. So, be on the lookout. Until then, please be mentally well!
DEREK’S DISCLAIMER: I am not a medical professional, neither am I giving any medical or legal advice. If you are seeking help from a doctor or an attorney, please consult said professionals. These are my personal thoughts and feelings on the subjects discussed, and my blog is my own personal experiences and journey with mental imbalance. Thanking you in advance!
AFFILIATE DISCLAIMER: There are products on this page. By clicking on the links, you will be redirected to that page at no cost to you. However, I will receive compensation if you purchase something (which I hope you do 😊).
Welcome back, my dearest friends! Hoping you had a great holiday and Happiest of New Year’s!!
As promised, here is Part 2 of my Javier story from 26 years ago! Enjoy!
Jorge would call me, and we chatted incessantly on the phone for what seemed like hours, though they weren’t really. He had to use calling cards to call me from a pay phone. He would constantly ask in his broken, yet sexy English, “When you come here?” He knew all about my then-acting internship and how hard it was for me to get away. He missed me, and I missed him terribly. However, we did get a chance to be together the weekend of January 19, 1996.
I arrived at The Power Company around 11:30 p.m. I was brimming with excitement as I stood in line to get in. After I finally gained entrance, I made my way into the crowded bar and upstairs to the mezzanine to see if I could spot him. While there, I saw him on the dance floor. Oh, how I loved to watch him dance, the way he moved. It was part erotic in a cute, boyish way. Part methodical, part slave to the music. He was wearing dark slacks, red shirt, and a black vest. He looked so good! I kept watching, staring until I noticed he wasn’t dancing alone. There was some black guy dancing with him! Shit! Suddenly, I was struck with a twinge of jealousy. ‘What the hell?’ I thought. Well, I didn’t exactly freak out like that, but I was still curious as to who that guy was. Had Jorge replaced me that quickly? I somehow remained calm. I guess all those years of experience with Darrell and Israel had prepared me for such shenanigans.
I coolly made my way to the dance floor to get a closer look. They weren’t touching, which was a good sign, but Jorge at one point had his back to him, like he wanted him to freak him from behind (or so I thought), but the guy never did. Another good sign. I got to the floor and stood near where they were dancing in hopes that Jorge would see me. He didn’t, so I got on the dance floor and danced near them. I got so close to him and actually touched him before he realized it was me. (I later realized Jorge really couldn’t see that well in the dark.) Child, his face was like daybreak at dawn when he realized it was me. He grabbed me and hugged me tightly. He grabbed his coat from the floor nearby and without a word to that other guy, he took my hand and led me upstairs to the upper bar, and we sat down on one of the couches.
“I didn’t want to interrupt.” Me still being calm, cool and ever so collected.
“Whaddaya mean?”
“That guy you were dancing with.”
“Oh, him.” He laughed. “No, that ‘s the boyfriend of my friend Hector. No, I was waiting for you!” With that he leaned towards me and we shared a steamy kiss.
He smelled so good and he tasted even better. We kept kissing and pulling back and looking into each other’s eyes and smiling. I WAS IN HEAVEN! Unlike Darrell Mitchell, Jorge’s eyes never drifted away from mine to look at anyone else. And I never let mine drift away either.
As we chatted, he kept squeezing my hand and looking at me. I could feel his soul slowly creeping into mine, and I didn’t want it to end…EVER! He asked me if I wanted something to drink. I asked for a Coke, and when he brought two Cokes back, it was then that I learned he likes his without ice. We continued our conversation, then we went to dance. He had this wonderful way of dancing where he moved his feet with small steps and swung his arms outward in a circular motion. I couldn’t help but copy that, the way I used to copy Charles’s rotating hips when he danced …
Our evening at The Power Company was magical! And my God, we closed the place. We shared a lovely slow dance, and I was finally with a partner (with the exception of Charles) who wanted to slow dance with me. We ended up downstairs in the video area on the sofa, cuddling until they told us we had to leave. We went to coat check to get our coats, and Jorge couldn’t produce his ticket. They wouldn’t get his coat, and I was ready to do battle for my man. Did I say that? Damn straight I did! 😂🤣 Jorge began to pull me away, but suddenly the coat check girl, who saw how fiercely determined I was for Jorge to get his coat, gave it to him anyway. Then we left.
One of the MANY songs we danced to. It always reminded me of him, because of its Spanish sounds and rhythms. Being with him WAS like a Magic Carpet Ride!
We got to his car first, and we were trying to figure out what to do next. We were at his trunk when I noticed a bumper sticker that said Culican Sinaloa. He told me that it was his hometown. I then asked about Maria, Hector, and Rafael, and he said that he had told them he was coming to The Power Company by himself because he was meeting me. He didn’t want them tagging along. A man after my own broken, yet rapidly mending heart. We got into his car then we drove to mine, which was parked on the bar level of the deck. He parked, and then I retrieved a gift from my car that I had made for him. It was a copy of this Love Sounds tape I had made for myself years ago. It contained a lot of slow, romantic songs from artists such as Lisa Stansfield, Hall & Oates, Janet Jackson, and Kenny G. He was overjoyed that I gave him the tape. He smiled, staring soulfully into my eyes as he leaned forward and kissed me sweetly yet again. He then put the tape into his deck, and soon we were listening to Lisa Stansfield’s You Can’t Deny It. We began kissing passionately and by the time we got to the 3rd cut on the tape, Kenny G’s Songbird, we were – well, let’s just say it’s again PRIVATE! 😁😀🤣😂😅
It was North Pole outside, but oh so Cancun inside. Turns out we both had colds, but I was NOT about to let that stop me from returning to North Carolina to see Jorge. And apparently, it didn’t stop Jorge either. He had been painting outside in the cold, poor baby. But I didn’t care how sick I was; I wanted him.
We collapsed in a sweaty heap into each other’s arms. We were positively drenched in an ocean of wet! And Jorge ‘s windows were steamed, I kid you not. We soon fell asleep in each other’s arms listening to Songbird. The tape had looped back around. As a matter of fact we ended up sleeping there in his car the entire night. And every now and then I would awake and hear the strains of Kenny G’s Songbird coming from the stereo. It was amazing how I picked up on that song. No, his stereo wasn’t broken. I would slightly hear the other songs in my slumber, but for some reason I would only clue in to that particular song. In my sleepy, dreamy state I decided that that was OUR SONG.
We awoke to the sun breaking into the car later that morning. Jorge sat up and kissed me. He then stared at me, smiling sleepily. Oh, I must have looked a sight! I don’t think he cared. I told him I couldn’t believe we’d spent the entire night in his car. He told me he was glad he could spend it with me. AAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Te quiero mucho, Jorge!”
“Te quiero mucho, mi nino.” He smiled.
I asked him what he was doing that day. He was supposed to have worked, but he took off just to be with me. I told him I wanted to go back to Teresa’s and shower and change, and then I would be back to pick him up, because Teresa and I were supposed to meet my friend Becca in Raleigh. I wanted to pick him up early enough to steal some alone time with him.
After returning to the apartment and getting some rest and showering, I returned to Juniper Street in Durham to pick up Jorge. We spent the day together simply walking around and talking. I showed him Carolina’s campus, and we walked through my favorite place, the arboretum. He was wearing his white coat, the one that had gotten accidentally locked up in CC last month, the night I met him. We had a remarkable conversation about – SEX! He admitted to me that he had bought a box of condoms, just in case! 😍 I marveled at meeting someone who thought ahead and who was also willing to use condoms unlike some other bastard I knew and despised, my first boyfriend, Darrell. Anyway, we left soon after to get Teresa, and head to Raleigh.
In Raleigh, we had dinner with my friends Becca and Teresa at the Olive Garden. The evening was fabulous as the girls got to know more about Jorge, and I played footsy with him under the table. I was overjoyed to have this moment with my 2 best friends from N.C. and a new man that I liked a lot. Jorge hardly touched his meal. His stomach was nervous. So was mine. Being around him gave me not just butterflies but Mothra, and I loved it!
We finished up and after dropping everyone off at their respective places, Jorge and I decided to return to Raleigh. We stopped for gas, and he paid without me asking. We went through Durham, however, and stopped off at the Community Park because he had something to tell me. He said he wanted to be honest with me. I guess this was coming from me having told him that I was going to be honest with him, that there was no need to lie about anything. What Jorge admitted to me was that his real name was Javier Muro Aguirre. There was no Jorge Cortez, except he had a twin brother, and his name was Jorge! I really wasn’t too surprised, considering the night I met him I saw his full name on his driver’s license, Javier Muro Aguirre.
So, he was really Javier Muro. Of course I asked him why the pseudonym. He hated the name Javier. Just like I hate my first name, William.
“Why?” I asked. “After all it is such a beautiful name.” He just didn’t like it. I told him I understood, because my first name was William, and I really hated that. He still wanted me to call him Jorge. I nearly launched into my entire split personality story, but decided against it, remembering the damage it had done to my relationships with both Darrell and Israel. For some odd reason around Jorge I was at peace, and I didn’t feel a need to splinter off into other personalities.
We continued on to Raleigh and CC, where I glimpsed Phil and paid no attention to him. Javier and I sat at one of the small tables and watched the moving bodies on the dance floor, that is when we weren’t watching each other. We were listening to tunes such as These Sounds Fall into My Mind by the Bucketheads and that Spanish-sounding song Magic Carpet Ride. We were hugging and holding hands and being quite romantic, until we joined those sweaty, gyrating bodies on the floor. They were playing Mariah Carey’s Fantasy. Yes, it was like a fantasy, a sweet, sweet fantasy baby! They were playing a real funky remix that slowed down to a halt in the middle, then sped up. Jorge and I held hands the entire time, gazing into each other’s eyes longingly. He never took his eyes off me, not for a second, and I never took my eyes off his. There was this strong, STRONG connection between the two of us that I had NEVER experienced with another PERSON ever!!!! We continued to gaze into each other’s eyes until we melted into a very deep SOUL KISS that seemed to last for a wonderful eternity. As a matter of fact I could have spent an eternity locked in his arms like that. We broke from our kiss and I spoke.
“How do you say ‘I want to make love to you’ in Spanish?” He smiled then he whispered, “Yo quiero hacerte el amour.” I repeated it to him.
“Yo quiero hacerte el amour.” He smiled and repeated it back to me.
We then kissed once more, left the dance floor, got our coats, and walked out of CC hand in hand. At the door, he helped me into my coat. What a gentleman! He held the door open for me, too.
We decided to go back to his place, because Hector, Rafael, and Maria were not supposed to be there. Thankfully they weren’t, so Jorge led me into his bedroom. The lights went out, except for the TV and we began staring at each other. I slowly began to peel off his clothes, beginning with his coat. Then I began unbuttoning his shirt, as he did the same for me. He slowly slid out of his shirt, and he helped me get out of mine. We hugged each other tightly, then I unbuckled his pants and unzipped them. He let his pants hit the floor. I pulled his yellow boxers down until they were around his ankles. He proceeded to unbuckle and unzip my pants as well. Soon we were both naked, standing in front of each other eagerly anticipating the next move. We just fell into each other’s arms and fell onto the bed.
We began to make love on top of his bed. Such energy he had! It was like having an aerobic workout my heart was pounding so hard! We were all over each other. I was on top of him; he was on top of me. We were in the throes of passion, when suddenly we heard someone try to enter the room. (Fortunately, Jorge had locked the door.) Rafael, Maria, and Hector had returned and we were banging on the door!! I could hear Maria’s voice sputtering Spanish left and right! Jorge and I got off the bed and began dressing quickly. When we were dressed, he unlocked the door and Maria stormed in followed by Hector and Rafael. She was pissed, but Hector and Rafael were amused. When they saw me there, they knew the 411. Maria, however, kept right on yelling in Spanish. Javier gave her a look and quietly threw out a couple of phrases as we were leaving. Outside the room he told me what she had said.
“I’ll have to use Clorox to clean the sheets!”
“Well, that’s not very nice!”
“Oh, she was just joking.”
“No, she wasn’t.”
I was not surprised that she would say something like that, because Jorge told me once that she was jealous of me. I don’t know why. Javier had assured me there was nothing between the two of them, and I believed him. (Well, girl you know how men are, particularly Mexican men and their big women!) But the question was where were we going to go to be alone? Perfect solution: A motel!
We hit the Durham streets and headed toward the boulevard in search of a motel. The Carolina/Duke Inn was booked solid, so we tried the Travel Time Inn across the street from Darryl’s. No telling what the clerk thought when he noticed Javier in the car. Nope. I was finally involved with someone who was single. Ha!! At last we were together again uninterrupted. We went upstairs, undressed, and crawled into bed.
I awoke around 7 a.m. I had told Teresa that Javier and I would be accompanying her to church that morning. While he was in the bathroom, I called her and told her we were still coming, but I had to take him back to his place to change.
Outside at the car, Javier held my coat for me, and he opened my door and held it for me, too. Teresa watched all of this with disbelieving eyes. We made a stop in Chapel Hill, and he even helped Teresa wash, clean out, and vacuum her car. He didn’t seem to mind. After that we went to eat at a Chinese restaurant at University Square. Javier shocked both of us when he picked up the check!
Afterwards, we got back to Teresa’s, and Javier and I decided to go to the movies. We ended up at Timberlyne and decided to see Eye for an Eye, with Sally Field and Kiefer Sutherland. I paid for the movie since he had paid for dinner. Once we found our seats, Javier helped me out of my coat, and I helped him out of his. There was no one else in the theater yet, so we had carte blanche to do what we wanted. We sat in the very back so we could be alone and smooch. We immediately sat close and held hands and kissed. I looked at him and marveled at how sexy he was. His eyes were so beautiful, brown, and sparkling; his lips were thin, yet sensuous; his moustache was missing this time (he shaved it off by accident), yet he still looked so good; and his eyebrows were bushy and connected, sort of like Eddie Munster, except Javier was much better looking. And his smile was probably his best feature, the way he sort of half-smiled. I found that soo sexy for some reason.
We were enjoying ourselves when we began to realize that people were filing into the theater. Soon the previews were rolling, and Javier and I settled back into our seats holding each other’s hands. Though I did want to see the movie, we ended up kissing in the middle of the movie several times. One of my eyes was on the screen, the other on Javier, until I gave up and totally gave him my 100% undivided attention. I began to realize that my feelings for him had really begun to take off and grow. They were getting deeper and deeper and stronger and stronger. I had been falling for this man basically since I met him. He had wanted me to stay with him on this trip, but I had politely declined, not because I didn’t want to sleep with him in his bed, but because his place was way too crowded. Suddenly, Javier announced that he had to go to the bathroom. I smiled at him and said okay. When he returned I noticed he had two drinks with him. The little devil had bought us drinks without even asking if I wanted anything. How thoughtful!
“Two Cokes. No ice!” He smiled sweetly. I nearly started crying, because it was one of the most thoughtful things that any man had ever done for me. It was then that I knew exactly how I felt about Javier Muro/Jorge Cortez:
I WAS HEAD OVER HEELS IN LOVE WITH HIM!!!!!!!!
Hopelessly in love with him! REALLY IN LOVE WITH HIM! CRAZY IN LOVE WITH HIM! After he sat down again and he kissed me, I whispered it to him.
“I love you.”
He smiled at me, and I think he blushed. He pulled me into yet another steamy kiss.
“Te amo, mi nino.” He whispered in the dark.
“Te amo, Javier.”
I never thought I’d ever feel that way about another man again, but I did.
After the movie, and being the gentleman that he was, he helped me back into my coat and I did the same for him. After we left the movies, I took him for a ride around UNC’s campus. He began telling me about his life in Mexico and how he was a cop.
“A cop?” Registered shock hit my face.
“Yeah.”
“And what would you do if you were a cop here in your squad car and you pulled me over for speeding?” I asked, with a devilish gleam in my eye. “Would you give me a ticket?” I asked.
“If you liked me I wouldn’t give you a ticket, but if you didn’t like me I’d have to give you a ticket!” He chuckled. I smiled back at him.
“I love you. I mean Te Amo, baby.” I whispered.
“Te Amo, mi nino.” He then leaned over and kissed me.
After trips to the bookstore and Caribou Coffee, we ended up at The Carolina Coffee Shop on Franklin Street where I learned more about Javier.
When he was 15 years old, his mother shipped him off to the army. Why? I never knew. I don’t think Javier knew why. I figured with him being a Cancer and Cancer males were especially notorious for loving their mothers and getting along with them, that he and his mother got along. Javier said he did not get along with his mother. Oh, well blew that theory. Growing up with 8 other brothers and sisters, which included a twin brother, was not always easy. In school and at home, people confused him with his twin. Whenever the real Jorge got into trouble at school and at home, Javier was the one who got blamed. A whack up side his head at home by pops. I don’t think he got along to well with him either.
At any rate, Javier spent five years in the Mexican Army, and while he was there he ended up (1) falling down a hill and breaking a bone and (2) falling out of a helicopter! A man after my own heart, one as danger-prone as I! After he got out of the Army at about 20, he became a cop for 2 years. I think it was towards the end of his stint as a cop that he met the woman who bore his daughter, Jessica. But it just wasn’t meant for him to be a family man or for him to be straight. He was introduced to homosexuality following a motorcycle accident, the accident that broke his right leg. Maria helped him out back then when he couldn’t get around. Towards the end of his recovery, a male friend took him to a gay club and well, the rest is history. He came to the U.S. early in 1995 and lived with a cousin in L.A. He hated it. When Hector called up and suggested he move to N.C., he gladly went. Lucky for me.
Javier chatted incessantly, and it was so much fun just listening and watching him talk and talk and talk. He was so animated!
“Don’t let me talk so much. You tell me something.”
“All right. Te amo.” I smiled.
“Te amo, baby.” He dropped his eyes and lifted his head and smiled. I just let him talk on. It was the accent. Awww, mushy, icky shit, I know but how many chances do I get?
I paid the bill and we left. We walked down Franklin practically arm in arm. Once we got to where BK Lounge used to be (Burger King), we were arm in arm. We crossed the street just like that. The time had come for me to take him home, and neither of us wanted that. After we got back to Juniper Street, I asked him to give me another photo of him, and I promised I’d send him one of me. He gave me a picture of him when he was in California, a photo of him in a tree, his feet propped against the limbs, and he was wearing a white “husband beater” tank T-shirt and olive slacks. He really looked ethnic in that photo. His hair was a little longer and he had his moustache. He was so sexy! At first I didn’t think it was him.
“Is this your brother?” I queried. He punched my arm and said, “No.” I took it and I hugged and kissed my new (and hopefully last) lover.
“I’ve got to go.” I whispered.
“I know.” He whispered back. Once we got outside and while we were standing on the landing he looked at me and said, “I’m starting to hate Atlanta!” Those words rang in my ears like the blare of 1,000 trumpets. I was beginning to hate Atlanta, too. It was separating me from the man I truly loved!!!!
“Goodbye, Javier.”
“No goodbye. Hasta luego. Until the next time!”
“All right. Hasta luego. Until the next time.” I smiled. With that I climbed down those metal steps, climbed into my car, and drove off into the night as he watched from the landing. And as I drove off, tears formed in my eyes and streamed down my face.
“Hasta luego, Javier.” I missed him already.
Okay, so this ends Part 2. If you’re enjoying the story thus far, come back for the third and final part next week! Until then, as always, be mentally well!!
DEREK’S DISCLAIMER: I am not a medical professional, neither am I giving any medical or legal advice. If you are seeking help from a doctor or an attorney, please consult said professionals. These are my personal thoughts and feelings on the subjects discussed, and my blog is my own personal experiences and journey with mental imbalance. Thanking you in advance!
AFFILIATE DISCLAIMER: There are products on this page. By clicking on the links, you will be redirected to that page at no cost to you. However, I will receive compensation if you purchase something (which I hope you do 😊).
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