Bali H'ai, Gilligan's Island, Miss Richfield, Deborah Cox and Me

They said it would be the trip of a lifetime.

They were right.

When it was all over, Robert asked if I would do it again; without a beat, I replied No. I wouldn’t. Why? He wanted to know. I told him: because of what I learned about myself during that week at sea…

Guy has been one of my best friends for years. More than that, though, he is one of the people I, most admire in this life. He is smart, he is talented, he is confident, he is sexy, he is committed to the ideals in which he believes and he is committed to the people for whom he feels love. He is a man of quality – and I am all about the quality. A few years ago, he met and married Rob and it was no, absolutely no, wonder that I should fall as in love with Rob as I had been with Guy, all those years. They live and work together, creating a perfect team – just as I have always felt Pat and I were, for it takes a special pairing to live and work together – to spend almost all of your time together. A perfect team. One of the many gigs that they work together is lighting the multitudes of parties on the Atlantis Cruise Lines. It’s a week of parties on a cruise ship transporting two thousand plus gay men (and the occasional woman, straight man and celebrity guest artist) around the most beautiful places on Earth. A week of parties; and Guy and Robert light them. Oh, there are more than just parties on the cruise ship.. there are theaters filled with entertaining performers, there are bars that specialize in certain types of drinks, restaurants that specialize in certain types of food, casinos, shops, discos, piano bars, gaming decks, pools, Jacuzzis and staterooms filled with people (again, mostly gay men) ready for a fantasy week filled with fun.

This is not my world.

I live in reality -- I am a New Yorker, through and through. I am a complicated man who doesn’t know how to relax, how to have fun or how to get out of my head. I don’t like fantasy and I have almost no sense of humour. I work almost all the time and when I am not, actively, working, I am in my head, trying to work out life. It is who I am and, at 45, I have learned that it is near impossible for me to change. I am a hard worker and that is why Guy asked me to do this cruise…

Guy needs a good, reliable, hardworking crew for these cruises. He hand picks them. The crew shows up, does the load in on day one (it’s about 12 plus hours of work), does the load out on day seven (that’s more like 6 hours because breaking things down is always easier than putting it up) and obtains passenger status between these two bookends of work. There are, naturally, times during those six days, when tasks come up that must be dealt with, and dealt with expediently and efficiently. All of this makes me the perfect person for this job. I am a hard worker; indeed, I get off on it. I’m not smart --- other people are brought on for that. There are members of the team who are technical support; they know which cables are needed to make certain lights or sound or fog – I’m not that guy. I am the go-to guy. I am the muscle. You need it lifted and carried, you need it strung and attached, you need a monkey to climb and a rodent to scurry – I’m your man. When an emergency pops up and something needs doing, you tell me to do it, I do it. It’s a simple equation. Guy knows this about me and, I believe, that is why he asked me to do this cruise with him. I have a strong work ethic and I do what I’m told to do. That’s an important character to have when casting a show like this. Guy had said to me “You’re reliable. Would you do the Caribbean cruise with Robert and me?”

“Yes”

There is nothing I would not do for Guy and Robert. Nothing. They are two of my best friends, two of my favourite people. They are my family. If they needed a manual labourer who would show up and do what he was told, I was on board.

When I said yes to the cruise, I didn’t stop to think that I would be on a cruise ship, at sea, with two thousand plus gay men for seven days. That realization didn’t actually come home to roost until about ten days before departure. That’s when the clichés hit. My blood turned cold, my heart stopped beating, my lungs stopped expanding with the intake of breath. In fact, I believe my genitals receded.

I’m a terribly shy man. I have a lot of emotional and psychological baggage strapped to my back; and while I have been trying, for years, to unpack that baggage, it is a slow process. I am actually terrified of gay men. I am terrified of their judgment and their rejection (both of which were heaped on me, for the first time, at the tender age of 16 by my first lover – a 30 year old ballet dancer who derided and condescended to me, regularly, criticizing me and teasing me, diminishing me and devastating me). I actually cannot remember a time, since entering into the gay community, when I did not feel the blazing glare of judgment. It is for this reason that I have, for years, declared that my biggest fear is being judged; not death, not injury, not spiders, snakes, the dark, midgets, rain, flying, heights, needles, being buried alive or any of the other irrational fears that people have. My biggest fear has always been being judged; irrational fear, that is. In a rational world, my biggest fear is the loss of a loved one – my parents, my husband, my family members – but I believe, honestly, that that is everyone’s biggest fear. So when it dawned on me that I would be trapped on a floating Fire Island for seven days, I went into a tailspin of panic, one not made better by Robert’s announcement that there would be a theme party every night, for which I would need outfits. I do not have the gay costuming gene. I’d no idea how I would, possibly, put together outfits for all these theme parties! I became a third grade schoolgirl, weeping at the prospect of starting a new school year, one in which I wouldn’t fit in, nobody would like me and everyone would ostracize me.

It must be said now: it is difficult to share the facts of these thoughts and feelings, especially in a public forum; but to omit them would be dishonest and would leave an incomplete story. Besides, I believe that there are legions of other people (not just gay men) who experience this kind of angst and who need to know that they are not alone.

My husband told me to step out of the panic room. “Call Hunter. Call Brady. Call Spanks. They will help you put together outfits for the parties. Ask Rob for help – he’s done these cruises before and he will know what to do.”

I stepped out of my comfort zone, owned my embarrassing flaw of uber-neuroses and asked my best friends for help; and they came through, with flying colours; and I boarded the plane for Fort Lauderdale with a suitcase full of outfits (not costumes – outfits) that reflected my personality, that fit the themes, that would put me in the category of ‘fun loving’ but that would also protect my dignity… perhaps the biggest cross that I bear. It is a burden, to say the least; but I have not, yet, mastered it. I guard my dignity as though it were the Hope diamond. It is my most fragile possession – even more than my heart. Over the years, I have developed a habit; I would rather have my feelings hurt than my dignity. I would rather be heartbroken than humiliated. I can repair my heart but not my image.

This was going to be an interesting week at sea.

Arriving in Fort Lauderdale, checking into the hotel, meeting my fellow crew members – it was all a breeze. Each of them had a distinct personality and each of them captured my attention and heart in their inimitable way. By the time we boarded the ship Sunday morning, I felt calm in the fact that I had some new friends and that the trip would be a good one. By the time the load in started, I was ready to go.

And it was load in, easy as cutting an ice cream cake with a hot knife.

Oh, I’m not saying the work wasn’t grueling, oh, no, no, no. We worked our asses off. There was lighting equipment that had to go up, sound equipment to be assembled, laser equipment to handle. There were personality conflicts (not with or for me) and sunburns. There was heavy lifting to do and many a dented up hand, foot, shin.. even a head bump here and there; but it could not be denied that the load in and set up moved quickly and efficiently. It could not be denied that this crew worked well together and that Guy’s artistry had the back up of seven pairs of good hands. By the time the ship sailed, the set up was pretty much all set for the first party of the cruise; and I had made some new friends.

We were on our way.

THE SHIP

The Solstice is a most beautiful cruise ship. It has 16 decks of elegant and chic clubs and bars, restaurants and shops, staterooms, pool decks, a spa, a gym, a sports court, an actual lawn with naturally growing grass, beautiful pools and Jacuzzis… I have heard it called the most beautiful cruise ship out there and, honestly, I’ll sign up for that description! The staff (all of the staff that I encountered, bar none) were all friendly (some of them were UBER friendly, if you know what I mean) and efficient. It is a floating paradise.

ENTERTAINMENT
I didn’t get to see every show but I saw several and the ones I missed, I got to catch the next day on the ship’s tv station. I got to see Jim David, Shawn Pelofsky and Ali Mafi do their enormously funny stand up comedy (and not just funny – each of them had things to say about life and living happy and proud.. that’s the kind of comedy I like; comedy with a message embedded somewhere within). There were these amazing drag queens on board who put on fabulous shows for us – but I have to admit that my favourite was Miss Richfield 1981, who does this show called Asians and Homos and Jews, oh My! and let me tell you: it’s rude, it’s crude, it’s tacky, it’s racist…and I loved every single minute of it. I hear she gets letters – complaints, that is. GOOD. I think good standup comedy SHOULD offend people. You either have to feed people, amuse ‘em or shock ‘em! Right?! And ps, there is this wonderful closed circuit tv show in which Miss Richfield trims the ship’s lawn with her manicure scissors – you can watch it 24 hours a day! She trims the lawn during the day and, then, at night. Dudes, it is hypnotic. How can you not love it? I think I am, secretly, in love with Miss Richfield. There were wonderful piano bar/cabaret entertainers who PACKED the rooms in which they were performing and there were cruise ship performers who sing and dance Broadway showtunes. There were plays for those seeking entertainment that was of a non musical variety.. I didn’t get to see all of them but the play I did see was a two man show called BAIT in which the actors played something like 28 different parts in the story of two friends going to one of those speed dating nights where you meet a guy for three minutes and move to the next guy and at the end of the night you see who you liked. I was surprised at how moved I was by the pathos in the story (NOT surprised by how much I laughed with it – that part, I was expecting).

PARTIES

This is where it was at for me. I love to dance. I go to clubs and I dance, I go to circuit parties and I dance. I love to dance. Some people go to clubs and circuit parties to hook up and do things on the dance floor that frighten fish – I go to dance. I dance and I dance hard. On the cruise ship, there was a dance party on the pool deck every night at 11pm. Then there was a dance party in the Quasar Club at 4am. I hit every pool deck party (ok, honestly, I missed the last night because I fell asleep.. I was EXHAUSTED) and a couple of the after hours parties. The djs for the cruise were among my very favourites. Not only did I get to dance to the musik of Manny Lehman, I got to hang out with him! Not only did I get to dance to the musik of Abel, I got to know him (and, bitch, can HE tell a funny story!!)! Not only did I get to dance to the musik of Paul Goodyear, I got to watch him get his nails done for the White Party! I loved the parties, I loved the dancing, I loved the costumes… even my own. Let me see if I can remember them all:

We were doing the load in during the Sailaway Party and the Oscar party, so I missed those… When Guy dj’d the 80s Party (BRILLIANTLY, I might add), I wore short denim cutoffs and a brightly striped tank top with sneakers. For the 90s Diva Party I dressed as a 90s DivO – George Michael – in big shiny sunglasses, a wife beater, black leather jacket and jeans so torn up they were almost non existent. For the Dog Tag T Dance I work combat boots, camo pants, the shirt my father wore in Korea, a camo hat (and when I passed by, some men said HeLLO!! – it wasn’t bad for my ego). At the Lost Island Party, I totally Professor’ed out, dressed in hiking boots, khaki shorts rolled uptothere, a sleeveless denim shirt and big eyeglasses. For the FantaSEA party, I dressed down in leather flip flops, pale blue striped white pajama pants, a wife beater and a pale blue fedora. For the Classic Disco T Dance I wore bell bottoms, a necktie belt covered in 45 single spacers, a hippie shirt I actually wore IN the 70s and a 45 single spacer necklace. And for the white party, it was all about 100% cotton and linen. I felt like a pretty gurl at every party.

My FRIENDS went a little further than I did, dressing in OUTRAGEOUS costumes – ‘stumes too outrageous for me to attempt, me being so serious and in my head all the time. Remember the dignity clause? But I loved their commitment to their stumes, to the party and to the fun. They made my cruise for me, giving me a million laughs and making me fall in love with each of them.
And the dancing… oh, the dancing…

(.... above is the tv in Forrest's room, with Miss Richfield on the Lawn playing... )


When I dance, I forget everything else. All the trouble in the world, all my neuroses, everything in my head… it’s just me and the musik. It’s where I am happy. Sometimes at the parties it is good to get right in the middle of the crowd and feel the camaraderie. There isn’t a lot of room to move; but at these moments, it isn’t about the steps – it’s about the brotherhood. So I make sure I get in that crowd and get the groove on, from time to time. The rest of the time I could be found dancing by the pool or on the upper deck, where there is enough room for me to move. It was in those moments that I experienced the most magical moments of dance – almost always with my friend, my family, Rob. He and I seem to communicate in a magical, wordless, spiritual way when you put us on a dance floor together. We can dance full on for a half an hour without, once, speaking – and the result is art. We are like some Judith Jamison modern ballet that builds and peaks until we are hyperventilating and sweating and in each others’ arms saying “oh my GOD”. It’s magic time and I will remember it. Forever.

NEW FRIENDS
I made friends on this trip that I know will be with me forever. That’s the most important thing. The people who become our friends will become our family and family is above all else. I walked into this adventure with two family members – Rob and Guy – so I knew I would be safe; safe from judgment, safe from loneliness, safe from harm. I walked out with a handful of new friends that will become my family. Aside from our immediate crew, I got to know a beautiful couple named Pancho and Kyle – a couple like Rob and Guy, who live and work together. They do the lasers for the parties; and when they aren’t busy with that, they are busy making us all laugh and feel better. A treasure to know, I am excited about knowing them better.

The night I met Team Smith, I admit I was a little intimidated… David was so wickedly funny, Ken so vivacious and outgoing and Scott so smart.. I’d no idea where I would fit in. I already knew Forrest from a few years ago and knew about his uncontrollable energy but I discovered on the trip how infectious his enthusiasm is. It turns out that there was no need to feel intimidated by any of them. They spent the trip grounding me, keeping me from getting TOO far in my head, offering me gentle and loving advice and helping me to take myself a little less seriously with their good-natured ribbing. They were even there to hold my hand and help guide me into a the world of solid food and carbohydrates ( a world I, quickly, eschewed upon my arrival back to reality ).


Guy says everyone on his team has magical powers. I know that. Guy refuses to tell each of us what our magical powers are, believing that we can figure it out on our own, if we just give ourselves the chance. I know what he is saying. You see, I believe in magic. I just call those powers “gifts”. I know what my magical power is. I have been given the gift of honesty. A close friend once told me “Stephen, you don’t just see the truth – you seek it; you look for, you wait for it, and when you find it, you document it.” That is true – either with a camera or with words, I seek to spread the truth. You can’t spend three decades looking through a view finder without seeing the truth. I know what I think my new friends’ magical powers are – they may not be the same as Guy’s perceptions of their magical powers; but this is my reality – and in that reality, Scott has been given the gift of nurture – time and again, I saw him turn his focus to the care of another; Ken has been given the gift of life – he repeatedly brought people and situations back to the joy of existence; David has been given the gift of strength – he was never not there to shoulder a problem, to fix a situation, to hold up some person or some wall, all the while making a joke so that nobody was aware of exactly how hard he was working; Forest has been given the gift of creation – few people on the ship could whip up a confection or a reaction the way he could; Robert has been given the gift of love – people had only to look at him to feel good; but I had only see him look at others to see good feelings; and Guy has the gift of wisdom – he has the wisdom to know what’s good, what goes and whose hands to place inside of each others’ to make magic happen. These are all the magical gifts that made the cruise run smoothly and made my week special.

MEN AND SOUL GROWTH

Sadly and irritatingly, I didn’t hook up on this cruise. That’s the bummer. Not everyone on my crew was interested in hooking up – but those of us who were interested, all got laid. Except for me. Too bad. Tough. This is one of the drawbacks to being in an open relationship. If I were in a monogamous relationship, I wouldn’t have to worry about the validation that comes with being on a gay cruise and hooking up – because when you are on a ship with two thousand gay men for a week and you don’t get hit on, it can smart. It can smart BAD. The trick is to not let it smart, to go into the pain of rejection, examine it, deal with it and get it out of your system. On our last day on the ship, Guy remarked on the irony of the situation. I work out all the time, I diet my ass off, I maintain (what I like to believe is) a pleasant physical being – and STILL I was the one person on our team who didn’t get a guy on the ship. The thing is, see, I know why it didn’t happen. I think I may have mentioned, at the start of this story, that I am shy. It’s true. I’m not shy around people I know, of course. I am, though, shy around hot guys and strangers. ESPECIALLY hot guys. It’s hard to unpack the baggage that comes with years of rejection – even though I try. I spend my life trying to evolve into a stronger, a better, a more confident person. I work with therapists, hypnotists, all kinds of specialists, in order to combat these problems. Some days are better than others. At the end of the day, though, I am shy. I am afraid of being ignored, of being rejected.. of any number of things that cause hurt. I’ve been hurt a lot in my life and I’m tired of it. I don’t want to hurt anymore. That’s why my fictional hero is Jason Bourne – he is everything I am not. I find myself wishing I could be strong and implacable, as he is. I have gone through periods in my life when I shut myself away, physically or emotionally, so that people can’t hurt me anymore. It has been in the last few months, though, that I have come to the realization of who I am, of who I have to be.

I think that when people see someone for those first few times, they are attracted to certain things: beauty, vivacity, humour. They flock to people possessing of those qualities; when they discover their intelligence, their goodness, their integrity, their strength, their kindness .. their humanity.. the deal is sealed. It always, though, must begin with a visceral attraction – like beauty, vivacity, humour.

I’m not, generally, outgoing – though I am, with people I know.

I’m not, generally, funny – though I can be, with people I know.

I do not, now, nor have I ever, thought I was beautiful – though I think I’m nice looking. The gay community has certainly not ever assisted me in believing otherwise.

Who I am and what I do is this: I’m a nice guy. I like to help people. I like to look for the good in a person and tell them what I see. I like to validate people. When someone tells me they don’t think they are attractive, I like to list the reasons I find them attractive. When I see someone do something of merit, I like to acknowledge the debt owed them for their kindness. When I notice someone’s humanity, I like to let them know that attention has been paid. I’m a nice guy.

There’s not a lot of room for that on a gay cruise – at least on the surface.

My friends all have a philosophy for why I didn’t meet anyone on the cruise.

David says “it’s cause you in yo’ dayum head too much; GURL, you’s GOT to get outta yo’ DAYUM head.” I loved that he said this to me because it told me that he sees me. He looked at me, he saw inside of me and he paid attention. Attention must be paid.

Ken said to me “Ah hope this won’t hert yer feelin’s… but ah weyish yew wouldn’t tike yerself seeeew seriously”. This didn’t hurt my feelings because I know I do this; and because he said it with great love (while trying to get me to go up onstage and volunteer to be hypnotized by the great Bruce McDonald – which, by the way, I refused to do, for fear of embarrassing myself. Ps. When I watched the show and what he had the volunteers do, I was EXTREMELY grateful I said no because my dignity would not have survived it).

Guy simply says “You know, you never will meet anyone unless you go up to them and talk to them.” I understand that. But nobody came up to talk to me, either… so maybe I’m not the only shy person in the group. Or maybe they just don’t want to meet me. It’s best I don’t try to figure that one out: I may not like the answer.


And the truth is: I don’t think I should have to change who I am. I don’t think I should force being outgoing or funny or anything else. It’s hard enough to find out who are you and be that; if you are lucky enough to be a person who feels things, and feels deeply, you should embrace it and be a nice guy – even if it means being hurt from time to time. Hello, my name is Stephen Mosher and I’m shy, nice guy.



You know what I’d like them to know, though? My friends? I’d like to tell them that it’s easy to say things like that to me, until you’ve lived inside of me. I can’t know what they think and feel any better than they can, me. My life and experiences are unique to me, and every one of them has caused to make the mosaic that I am. It’s easy enough to tell a shy guy that he has to go up to a hot guy and say hi, when all the hot guys on the ship are drinking or doing drugs… and you aren’t. I don’t drink. I am an alcoholic. I cannot drink, for my own good health. Alcohol helps people to shake off their inhibitions. I was on a ship with thousands of men who had no inhibitions – I was one of the few onboard whose inhibitions were still intact. No muscle relaxer that I take (and I do, for my back), no recreational drug that I could take (and I have, in my life) can help me be less inhibited (and before you suggest I smoke pot, I’ll tell you I have tried and it makes me barf). So there I was, the sober one on a pool deck filled with tipsy, drunk or shitfaced dudes who were hookin’ up cause they had no inhibitions. It can be a lonely place to be. To my credit, though, I didn’t run away. I stayed (almost always) to the end of every party, to be with my family, who I love. It’s easy to tell me to get out of my head, when you haven’t been through the sorts of things that drove me in there, for safety, and continue to drive me in there; it’s easy to tell me to take myself less seriously, when you aren’t the one who has built up the walls that protect me from being hurt.

Rob has a completely different tactic. He just kisses me and tells me I’m gorgeous and that he knows I know it.
I don’t have any feelings of negativity regarding this one little letdown of my trip or my friends’ reactions to it. Indeed, I am happy for the things I learned about myself and happy to know that there are people who care enough about me to offer their love, advice and support.


Besides, I got something better out of the week than a random, anonymous hookup…

I met this man.

He’s a friend of some of my friends. He’s extremely attractive and very sexy. I liked him immediately. I would have made a play for him, except for two things: he is employed on the ship and it was made clear to me, by a member on my team that I haven’t mentioned (and won’t, for extremely private and personal reasons; and my insistence on being a Southern gentleman), that he had a previous claim on this man that I liked. However, for two nights in a row, the man that I like spent some time dancing with me .. a not insignificant amount of time, in fact. At the end of both of these nights, he went to his cabin and I to mine. Near the end of the cruise, I felt like I had to say something to him, so when I saw him I stopped him and told him that in the real world, I would have made a play for him, totally; but he works on the ship and I don’t know what the protocol is. Also, it was made clear to me that he was involved with one of my teammates; and there are rules about these things. Nevertheless, I wanted to make sure that he knew, for his own validation, that there was guy on the 10th deck that found him really sexy and handsome and that, by spending time with me, he had made me feel sexy and handsome, too, for a little while. He touched me and said that the feeling was very much mutual. That made me smile and it made my heart beat faster. It wasn’t a random hookup. It was a real connection; with someone who saw ME..someone who liked ME.

That’s better.

And by the way.. I DID turn down a threeway. I coulda had sex on the ship. But the man offering me the threeway with he and his husband was the WORST kisser I’ve ever experienced. And, dudes, THAT is a deal breaker.

I'll tell you what I DID love, regarding the men on the cruise... watching my friends with them. There were reunions with old beaus, connections with new friends and the validation that comes when a stranger asks you to join him back in his (or, in some cases, THEIR) stateroom. I love my friends and want to see them validated... and I did.


THAT is where I get off.

VALIDATION

The highlight of my trip, except for spending a week with Guy and Robert and getting to make my wonderful new friends, came the night of The White Party. I had just woken up from my evening nap (the parties start at 11 and end somewhere near dawn .. I need NAPS!) when my phone rang. It was Rob, wondering if I would go with him to Rich’s pre-White Party cocktail do. Rich is the owner of Atlantis and Rob was inviting ME to his party! NATCH, I was going to go! So I put my shyness on hold, got out my crisp white cotton pants and my white linen Armani shirt and my jazz shoes (yes, jazz shoes – left over from my days as a dancer, decades ago) and went to Rob’s stateroom. He and Scott and I went to Rich’s cabin and saw all the pretty people in all their pretty outfits… the entertainers, the crew, the rich people, and the celebrity headliner, who would be doing her concert the next night. I spent a little time talking to Bruce McDonald (the hypnotist whose show I loved but was so happy I had not volunteered to do) and his partner, I visited with some of the people I had met and, basically, stood behind Rob and Scott, happy to be their arm candy.

As the party wound down, though, and people were leaving, I approached the diva. Lightly, I touched her shoulder with the tips of my fingers.

“May I say hello?”

“Of course.”

“You will never, never, remember working with me… but about six or seven years ago, I did a photo of you with your husband and your baby….”

Deborah Cox blurted out my name.

I was shocked. The truth is, I never expect people to remember me. Too many times, I have been in this exact same situation and been forgotten. Once, when I was surprised that she remembered me, Dee Hoty said “well, all anyone ever sees of you is a bald head behind a Minolta.” It was a witty and gentle way to ease the pain of, so often, being forgotten; one I have always appreciated.

Deborah Cox said to me “I LOVE that picture you did of us! It hangs over my desk!”

I said “I have the picture of you singing Nobody’s Supposed to Be Here to me hanging over MY desk.”

She told me how much she loved all the photos we did, that I had captured a really beautiful time in her life and when could we do some more, that she had two more children since? I told her I was hers whenever she wanted, that I’d go anywhere. Then, she introduced me to Rich, singing my praises and talking about The Sweater Book. Rich asked why I wasn’t working for Atlantis and I told him I’d retired. Deborah was stunned and wanted to know why? I told her “Everyone wants digital and I still shoot on film.” “Well, we LOVE film.” Then, I said, it’s a perfect match. Before sending me out to the white party in all my elegant linen, she posed for a picture with me, happy, in heaven, as it were.

When I told them my story, Robert’s eyes teared up and Guy’s smile beamed. They knew. They knew that that, for me, was better than any validation that comes from a hot guy wanting to hook up.

The next night, we stood, side by side, watching the Deborah Cox concert, dancing, screaming, and feeling the love from all around.

HOME

Back on dry land but still feeling the rocking of the ship, I answered Rob’s question.

“Would you do it again?”

“No.”

The reasons I don’t think I would do another cruise: I don’t like being confined to one space for seven days. At sea, on a cruise ship, there is no escape, no alternative. At sea, on a cruise ship, you are at the mercy of their chefs, when it comes to meal time. At sea, on a cruise ship, one filled with gay men, you cannot escape scrutiny, judgment and a host of other negative aspects that come with being a gay man.

However, in hindsight, I have to admit that I WOULD do another cruise. The reasons? I would do it if Guy needed me because I would do anything Guy asked me to do. I would do it to be with David and Ken, with Scott and Forrest, with Kyle and Pancho, again. I would do it if my husband went with me. I would do it if I had friends like Hunter, Brady and Jason with me. I would do it if I learned to get out of my head and say hi to the hot guys, every now and then.

I would do it again. Never say never.

One of the most memorable things from the trip came at three am in the café, as Guy and Ken and I left the party for a late night snack. Ken took it upon himself to open my eyes for me by telling me this, in his wonderful, thick Southern accent:

“I completely misjudged you. When I met you, I took one look at you and thought you were like all the other Chelsea boys who only like people who look the way you do. Then, during the load in, late in the day, you stopped on the upper deck to watch the passengers that had boarded and I asked what you were doing and you said ‘I’m looking at all the beautiful gay men’ and I thought to myself ‘yeah.. he’s shopping.’ Then you said ‘ALL gay men are beautiful’ and I felt THIS SMALL for what I had thought of you.”

In spite of every wonderful, exciting, beautiful thing that happened during my week at sea, this is my favourite. Do you know why? Because he looked at me and he saw me; and not just him. David did. Scott did. Deborah did.

Attention has been paid.

All the photos in this story were shot by me or on my camera by a friend except this one, which I took off my new friend, Tom's, Facebook page because this was the night of White Party - the night I felt I looked the best. Tom would be the handsome man in the scanty outfit, in the photo with me.