The Watering Can Monster

December 2021

I am a control Freak. I never realized how many people I manipulated over the years to get what I wanted. I love to control, influence and direct peoples thoughts, actions, and situations. I predict outcomes before they happen from conversations and events and plan how to change results. It’s easy for me; my second nature.   I read people in real time and adjust my words and body language to lead them where I want.  I don’t tell them what they want to hear, I say what they need to hear.  I’m not reading minds or like rain man, but it comes from 35 years of working with the public and 46 years of hiding myself in plain sight.  My results aren’t always perfect, but more often than not I get my way.  I rarely use overt methods, but tend to use softer language, so that I’m looking kind, generous and even virtuous. If things don’t go as planned, look out, I’ll scan for a weakness and strike with a precision guided argument or comment to make you look bad in some other area.   Give me a leadership vacuum and I’ll slip right in and takeover.  The thing is, it’s exhausting, and I never realized it was or that I was directing the world around me, until I lost it all and realized it was an illusion.

The lack of control I had over my life became clear to me pretty quickly after entering rehab.  It makes sense.  My decision making abilities landed me here, so I probably shouldn’t be in charge of my life right now.  It didn’t mean I had to like it and couldn’t try to influence people and events.  As I mentioned, I look for a weakness when I’m not in control and I found one. I can work with anything no matter how small.  I just needed an opening and I had found one.  The fruit bowl.  You see, the powers to be couldn’t keep it full.  There are 10 of here in the sober living house and we ate a lot of fruit.  I used it as a symbol of how poorly we were being treated and turned it into the rallying point. I had the group riled up. Within a week the CEO, the business development manager and the case worker were holding a “round table” before our first process group in the morning listening to the groups grievances.  I sat back, didn’t say a word until the end when I needed to strike.  I brought up my original check in when I couldn’t fill out the paperwork. I was still angry about being sent to the mental hospital. I ripped through the entire method and the incompetence of the process and paperwork and promises of services by the “sales team” that weren’t being delivered to us patients.  If I don’t get my way, I retaliate and I wanted to embarrass them. The CEO agreed to meet with me one on one to go over the process. It’s been 5 weeks since then, we still haven’t met.  At this point it doesn’t matter to me, I’m not here to fix them, I’m here to work on myself. I ended up as the unofficial group leader, a talking to by my therapist to use my influence in the group for good and my first assignment on why I feel the need to be in control. 

July 2021

After arriving back in Phoenix in July of 2021 from Brazil, my first order of business was to find a place to live and get my stuff out of storage.  I found an amazing apartment in central Phoenix, and I moved in August 1^st.  The place was 2 stories, had a washer and dryer and much to my surprise it came with a new 65” TCL Roku TV mounted on the wall. A gift from the owners. It was perfect, my TV had broken on the move, and I needed a new one.  A year later, in the height of my psychosis, that Roku TV became the source of all my electronic sabotage as I became aware that I was living in the movie “The Game”.

“My ego also drives my need to control, and the idea that I know best.”

A week after setting up my apartment, another Brazilian living in Seattle I had met online and been chatting with for the past two weeks came to visit and stay with me for 5 days.  Yes, I have a type.  He was my age, a few months in the US and looking for love or a permanent visa.  It didn’t matter to me. I was still looking for love and I had left Brazil behind the moment I landed in Phoenix July 1st.  We had a great time; visited the Grand Canyon and Sedona. However, his situation was complicated, there was still a marriage to a woman years before in the Florida, a daughter in Rio, and an end date of his tourist visa fast approaching.  That was too much for me to try and tackle as much as I enjoy a good project. Who knows, if there had been a stronger connection, I might have gone for it, but I did have the Colombian in Puerto Vallarta on deck.  I always had a guy waiting in the wings.  Bigger, better, more. Even though I was still sober, the addict mind was always at work. 

August 2021

I left for Mexico the third week of August with my best friend.  Puerto Vallarta is the gay mecca of Mexico.  We were staying at one of the two all gay resorts in the Romantic District.  I had never stayed at a gay hotel, nor had I been to PV, so I was looking forward to the experience.  I had no real plans other than sex and laying on the beach.  Even though I was meeting the Columbian, it wasn’t a sure thing, so I wanted to be sure I had back up.  I was only there for 3 nights. I can work the gay hook up apps and guys are pretty easy, there is no dancing around why we are on the sites.  What is also helpful is that gay guys are categorized and once you know your category, and who your market is, just stick to your wheelhouse and the hook up is easy. I have a whole system. The app instructions only tell you how to use the app, my rules tell you how to get what your want.  I searched Puerto Vallarta on my app, put in my dates that I would be there, stats of what kind of guy I was looking for and narrowed the search for a guy looking for my stats.  My search came back with a lot of results.  I’m in my wheelhouse.  I began chatting with some and found a few potentials. I really only need one, but I do like to triple book and have plenty of options. Men are flakes. Accepting this is key to my system.

One guy in particular caught my attention.  He looked just my ex boyfriend. Muscles, cute, beautiful tan skin, dark features and seemed nice.  After a few exchanges he mentions work.  He doesn’t mention what he does, but I knew what he did.  I knew because I’ve chatted with tons of guys.  I know how the conversations flow, and this was different because he mentioned work early on and the way he said it.  I guessed he was a massage therapist, and I was correct, but I let him make the first move.  I wanted to see how this would play out.  I’ve never had a massage, straight or gay, so I was curious.  He tells me he does private massages in hotel rooms.  I ask him what it entrails, and he says a massage and play after. I ask for a definition of play. If I was going to go through with this, I wanted to know what I was getting.  He leaves it open but leans to the more oral and body contact play.  I enjoy those, but more as foreplay on my way to sex.  I very rarely hookup with out having sex and kissing.  I love to kiss, it’s usually a make or break for me. If the guy won’t kiss, I won’t hook up, unless there are other attributes that make up for it.  Another rule, take him where they are at to get them where you want.  Price, terms and time were set. I was nervous and excited as this was a first for me, but I also liked the idea.  It was a sure thing, no need to triple book, and I was in control. The only thing that concerned me was if there would be a connection.  That is also important to me, but then I was buying his participation and as long as he masked his feelings and acted like there was a connection, all would be good. I figured he was a professional and this was his business. 

We arrived in PV on a Monday. We made our way to the hotel via a taxi.  It was the rainy season, which is low season, so not a lot of people.  On the 30 minute ride to the hotel, I was already falling in love with the city. A blend of the new world and the old nestled between mountains and the Pacific Ocean. The streets are narrow with shops and restaurants packed along side. It was hot and humid.  As we drove through the Romantic Zone there was a definite change in the feeling.  I began seeing rainbow flags, banners welcoming gays and the most exciting, men everywhere holding hands. We checked in at The Alamar, a luxury gay hotel on the beach and I headed to my room and my best friend headed to his with plans to meet up shortly for a quick dinner as I had my “date” set for 8pm. My best friend knew about the hook up, but not that I was paying for it. I rushed through dinner and left my friend to his own devices.  I showered and was ready for my date.  I met him at the front desk and had to sign him in as a guest.  I wasn’t embarrassed.  I could tell they knew him at the desk, he also had what I later learned is the tell tale sign for a massage therapist in PV; a small bag with straps worn as a backpack. They are seen often on the backs of beautiful young men in PV walking through the city.

“Control was my method of keeping the walls intact.”

We made it back to my room, pleasantries were made. Clothes came off.  The massage didn’t happen, but the sex did, twice.  There was light kissing and we cuddled and chatted after.  I had booked him for three hours but was ready for him to go after an hour and half.  I was satisfied and since I was paying, I asked him to leave.  Overall, it was a great experience and I paid him the amount promised. He was fun, kind, sexy and delivered the goods; it was easy.  I didn’t feel ashamed, but I’ve never told anyone about this experience or the rest that were to follow after him over the course of the next year. We still chat online, and I’ve seen him around town on my other trips I took to PV.  He always says hi, but that was the only time we had sex.  I ended up meeting the Columbian for coffee the next afternoon. The categories of gays are a jumping off point, but there is a lot of nuance to the system. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on his body and was ripped with muscles from head to toe, my type, but apparently my belly wasn’t big enough for him and my lack of a beard at the time hurt my daddy image. He is a great guy, and we hang out when I visit, but the connection wasn’t there for either of us. I went on a date my last night with a guy I met on an app earlier in the day. He was visiting from Dallas, and sober.  Older than me, good looking, super sweet, thoughtful and of course in great shape.  Are you picking up on a theme with men for me. We hit it off, had a great dinner and conversation that ended with a kiss.  We still chat and have become friends.

December 2021

My need for control has become a theme for my recovery here in rehab and the hardest defect of character for me to shake.  Starting with the fruit bowl and later homework assignments, lot of assignments and conversations, I came to see that I am a control freak.  I’ve done some digging on this and have come up with a few reasons I feel the need to control my environment.  I have lived in a state a fear, shame and guilt for most of my life.  I was afraid of being discovered for being my true self; gay. I needed to control the narrative around me. I was conditioned from a young age that I had to rely on myself.  I had no one to confide in growing up. As my sexual feelings of being attracted to other boys began to stir within me, I didn’t know what to do, so I buried my emotions.  Year after year they went further inside of me, encased in walls of steel, never to see the light of day. Control was my method of keeping the walls intact. I couldn’t process or control what I was feeling and behind the steel walls I was in turmoil, but I sure as shit would try to control what was going on around me. I am sure with more therapy, working the 12 steps with my sponsor, I just finished step 1, living an authentic life and prayer and mediation it will become easier to leave outcomes to God and not me.

My ego also drives my need to control, and the idea that I know best. Art therapy taught me how wrong I was. We were each handed a white piece of paper and a black pen. The instructions were to for us to close our eyes or look at the ceiling and to scribble on the paper.  Needing to control the outcome, I decided to draw a sun as best I could without looking.  When I finished, I was proud, you could definitely tell it was a sun.  I looked around and saw scribbles on everyone else’s papers. Oh well, I wanted a sun. To my surprise we were then told to pass the paper to person on the left.  We were then told we were to finish the drawing, with crayons, markers, colored pencils, or paint; our choice.  I watched as the girl next to me turned my sun into a beautiful sunflower, which happens to be my favorite flower. She didn’t know this. After a period of time, we are told to pass again to the left.  There goes my sunflower to a different table.  Now I couldn’t monitor what was happening to my piece. I was blown away by what I got back.  It did help that an amazing artist got my piece. He turned that sunflower back into a sun and drew what can only be described as a watering can monster in front of the sun with the stem of the sunflower as liquid now flowing from the spout. I could not have imagined creating something like this or even seeing it from my original drawing. I was just shown that I don’t have all the answers and by allowing other people to use their talents, collaborating and letting go of outcomes, something amazing can be created. I’ve kind of always known this, but here was proof.  Lesson learned, but not always implemented.  I am working on that. My watering can monster sits on my nightstand, so he is the last thing I see at night and the first thing I see in the morning to remind me to let go and I don’t have to be afraid anymore. So how does a trip to Puerto Vallarta and the hiring of an escort fit into this story? It is the ultimate control.  I mean I know he could say no, and he wasn’t forced to do anything he didn’t want, but money was involved, so I’m sure it influenced the situation and his decision. I controlled him to get what I wanted. I said I wasn’t ashamed, but I was, otherwise I would have said something.  The shame didn’t come from the sex.  I didn’t need to pay someone to have sex with me.  I have no trouble finding men to sleep with me. I was ashamed, because I was paying for intimacy. That’s really what I’m yearning for, that and an authentic connection. I’m tired of being alone. The shame comes from the feeling that something is wrong with me, and I am trying to fill a void. I haven’t filled it yet, but at least I can recognize its existence and its influence on my decisions.

September 2021

I had an amazing time in Puerto Vallarta, so much so, that I didn’t want the feeling to end and I for sure didn’t want to go back to work.  I had heard about an event in Sitges, Spain, south of Barcelona on the Mediterranean, which takes place in early September from a guy I was chatting with in Germany from a few years ago.  I looked it up and it was happening.  I booked a ticket, hotel and left by myself 10 days after getting back from PV for Bear Week in Spain.  You see I’m a bear in the gay world and this was a gathering of thousands of bears and bear admirers from all over the world.  Where else would I want to be?