I Know What It Sounds Like…

Last week, a girlfriend of mine contacted me. Her husband of seven years was dead. Unexpected. He went fast.
She asked me:
“How did you deal with Tony’s death? When does the pain go away?”
I couldn’t answer those questions, reassuringly. So, I pantomimed the best answer I could.
I told her that, with time, the loss would become more manageable.
But, what I couldn’t bring myself to tell her, is that the pain from that kind of loss never goes away. It lingers. It ebs and flows. It encompasses the senses…
In so many ways.
I receive many questions from people, regarding Tony’s suicide.
This is what I know…
I know what it sounds like…When the nightbird calls. And death took him.
The deafening silence within. The moment I realized his soul was no longer here on this Earth.
I know what it feels like, when the heart shatters, like glass, into a million pieces..and I realized I would never hold him again.
I know what emptiness feels like…falling asleep;  still reaching for him in bed
I know what it looks like…A beautiful sunset; then, turning to vast space…expecting him to still be standing there next to me.
I know what it smells like…the fragrance of his favourite cologne in the air…no longer clinging to his soft skin.
I know how limitlessly a day can stretch, waiting for his texts….that no longer come.
I know how vast the void is…looking into another man’s eyes…still wishing they were his.
To hear a song, that once symbolized our covenant to one another…that same song now fills my heart with so much sorrow.
I know what it feels like,  knowing he is still there. In another stream of consciousness. Impossible for me to reach…
Yet, knowing I can’t let go.
I thought I knew it all before Tony died,
And now I realize…knowing doesn’t mean so much.
These are things I wish I never knew.
But, I know what it feels like.
I know what it looks like.
And, I know what it sounds like…

Somewhere….On The Edge.

It’s no secret that my favorite company to work for is Kink.com Every time I do a scene for them, my limits, my stamina, and sexual performance is pushed to another realm. I will be writing a separate blog entry, on some of the growth that I have experienced, staying at the Armory.

However, this blog is all about my Men on Edge scene. I was nervous walking into the scene. Especially after seeing Sebastian Keys with rope in his hand.

I asked what it was for. He simply replied, “Do you trust me?”

Yeah. I trust Sebastian. The fact that I have beat my dick for several months, thinking about burying it inside of him, helps too!

The next several hours were spent with me bound, edged, suspended, edged more, sucked, fucked with a dido, (only scene in history that Ive ever allowed a dildo in my ass) tied to a bed, edged with his mouth, hot and cold water, then finally an explosive release.

It was one of the hottest scenes I’ve ever shot. I remember when I was younger, reading a series of books by Anne Rice, about the BDSM retelling of Sleeping Beauty. I felt like a character in one of those erotic novels, whilst shooting this scene.

I don’t often write commentary on specific scenes that I shoot. This one, however, deserves to be acknowledged. I couldn’t be prouder of it, and more elated with the experience. I think it translates perfectly through the visual.

Thanks, to Kinkmen.com, and the angelic looking little devil, Sebastian Keys, for taking me so far to the Edge.

Here is the link to the trailer for my Men on Edge scene for Kinkmen.com












Passion. I was born with it. Passion burns inside of me. Outspoken. Intense. Convicted. Loyal. Invested. Sometimes crazy.

As a child, I was always writing in my journal. I had the ability to translate raw emotion into my writing from a very young age. But, life happened. Many things transpired in my childhood that changed me. That hurt me. I always tell people, “I had my shit on point until I was 11 years old!”

Shortly after the time that I figured out that my father would never be the dad I needed him to be. That he was incapable of loving me…I became very wounded. I was hurt…and very angry. That anger turned inwards.

By the time I was 17 years old…all of that hurt and self hatred got the better of me…I threw down my writing pen, and I picked up dope.

All of the passion that burned inside of me…all of that bright light…turned to darkness. Shrouded by pain, by crack cocaine, amphetamines, and hopelessness.

The more dope that I used. The more I numbed out. Became a non entity. I did terrible things that hurt myself and the people I loved. The more pain I inflicted on myself and others. The more I hated myself for doing such things. The more I sought to destroy myself with dope.

There it it…in several paragraphs, I’ve outlined a cycle that completely ran my life for more than 20 years. I could have died. I should have died many times.

But, passion…and the human spirit. They are powerful things.

Somewhere along the line, I made a decision. I wanted to live again. To feel. To grow. And, as the will to live grew, so did the passion within me.

I am not a religious man. But, I do believe that we are all send into this world to learn, to grow, and to share freely what we learn with others.

Fortunately, (or not) for me, the greatest growth that I have experienced has sprung from the greatest tragedies.

Am I happy with all of the choices I’ve made in this lifetime? No.

Do I wish any of the pain I have experienced upon another human being? Never.

Would I trade any of my experiences for all the money in the world? Absolutely not!

I am the man that I am because of every fucked up choice I ever have made…and learned from.

I’m no longer victimized by my bad choices today. I’m not killing myself today, because of the pain I’ve suffered in the past.



So, what is “Harnessing the Power?”

For me, it starts by waking up sober. Everything good in my life today is contingent on my sobriety. Being sober allows me to access all 7 of my chakras, freely.

I meditated this morning. My morning meditations are short and easy. Right now, my favorite morning meditation is “Canyon People”, by Carlos Nakai. That 4-5 minute flute piece gives me time to ponder my day.

For some reason, after my mediation was over today, the expression “Hope Springs Eternal”, was on my mind. And, that simple expression led me to writing this piece.

If you are drawn to me or my writing, you are most likely a passionate person as well. (“Like attracts like”)

So, my question for you is, “What is your passion?”

It’s there. I promise you. If you can navigate past your surface thoughts and the “clamors of the world”, you’ll see it’s always been there.

Next, how do you, “Harness the power, to indulge your passion?”

For me, it is simple…I stay sober..I meditate..I listen to my inner voice…and I write!!




Proud Bottoms…Unite!

Gay men love to get fucked for a multitude of reasons:

The heightened physical sensation they experience while their prostate is being massaged.
The exciting visual they get while being penetrated/dominated by another man.
The emotional bond and intimacy they feel when someone they love is inside of them.
So, why have we in our own gay culture turned bottoms into the weaker demographic??
Come on, guys…Don’t deny it!!
How many times have you been hanging out at a bar with your friends, when a hot, muscular guy walks in the room and you all gawk until someone in your circle chimes in, “Oh no, girl…he’s a big ol’ bottom!”
That term, “Big ol’  bottom”, has been around for generations. It is sometimes used with humor. But, so many times referenced with a level of prejudice.
Hot Top?
Big ol’ Bottom?
We are ALL men here. Does it really make us any more or less of a man because we choose to be primarily “anal insertive” or “anal receptive” in bed?
I am a top for several reasons. I admittedly have used Propecia for over a decade. Unbeknownst to most, Propecia’s primary medical use is to reduce the size of an enlarged prostate. I presume that having taken Propecia every day for over a decade. My prostate has probably been reduced to the size of a grain of sand. (Sorry. Not Sorry. I also have a full head of hair in my late 30’s and wouldn’t tradem that for anything!)
Trust me, guys..I’ve tried to be a bottom! Cuming from your prostate is the most intense orgasm a man can have.
Arpad Miklos (may he RIP) found my prostate is 2006 on the set of “Dirty Talk”. From that moment forward, until the end of 2008, I spent a good portion of my sex life trying to find the perfect top to validate why I should become a proud Bottom! As a novice bottom, I do have very particular standards for my potential top. (Probably molded by Arpad)
He has to be foreign (Eastern European preferably), accent, more muscular than I am, hairy chest, and uncut dick. That’s right, bitches. This Italian loves some foreskin!
I spent so much of 2008 bottoming for foreign dick all across the tri state area, I believe my ass hole was Angelina Jolie’s primary competition for being merited as an Ambassador for the United Nations!
It just didn’t work out for me. No one (and there were many) has ever made me cum from my ass the way Arpad did on that fateful day.
Don’t get me wrong..I am an ass man. If I have to choose a hot ass with a perfect hole or a hot dick, I’m going for the ass
However, had I found the right foreign top to make me squirt while fucking my ass, your damn right you would have a proud versatile man here!
So guys…let’s give one another a break!
Let’s honor ourselves and one another for whatever role we subscribe to in the bedroom.
The position you enjoy has absolutely NOTHING to do with your “manhood”!
How much of a man you are is contingent on how you live your life, treat other human beings, and handle personal struggles and victories.
You tops out there….
Be forever grateful for every bottom that pleasures your dick with their beautiful hole!
And, all you bottoms out there…
Own your bottom-hood. Be proud!
If nothing else, know that I respect and appreciate every bottom out there…or at least hope to in the future!

We Are The Weirdos, Mister!

We Are The Weirdos, Mister.

I wasn’t just born gay. I was born different. Growing up, I was either the center of attention, or I was being completely shunned for my outlandish behavior. 

Looking back at the other gay men whom I grew up with that later “came out”,  I simply wasn’t your typical gay kid. All the other gay kids that I grew up with liked the Bionic Woman better than the Six Million Dollar Man. However, unlike all the other gay boys, I didn’t fantasize about marrying the Six Million Dollar Man. I knew that I was going to marry David Bowie.
Yep. I was the strange one.
While all the other boys in the 6th grade were pirates, and jail birds, and transformers for Halloween.. I was Boy George.
At 12, I had already figured out that Siouxsie Sioux was the true Goddess-not Madonna.
At 13, I strayed down the Gothic path, long before there was ever a Marilyn Manson or a store called Hot Topic.
By 15, I was carrying around Sylvia Plath’s, The Bell Jar & Ariel poems like they were religious textbooks.
Yep. That was me. Freak. Fag. Sensitive soul. Dark heart. However you chose to label me.
 And those were simply references to my style and and personal interests.
On a clinical level…I simply am not your average gay!
I’m hyper. Easily excitable. Like a big puppy that slobbers and pisses himself when he meets a stranger he likes. I can be loud. Sometimes confrontative. I cry when reading a sad novel or watching tragic cinema. I’m extremely emotional. Impulsive. Passionate. Loyal. Erratic. Intense…..
An ex-boyfriend once told me, “You’re too much candy for a dime!”
And, I used to be so hard on myself when I’d see disappointment in a stranger’s face, because I wasn’t the cool, calm, collect Nick that they envisioned me to be. Maybe that’s the fantasy man they built from the image they saw in the videos.
Sorry. I aint that guy! I will never be relaxed, easy going, and “under the radar”.
Maybe you get what I’m saying. Maybe you can relate.
So, how did I reconcile some of this?
Here is the first thing that I did to really help me become comfortable in my skin:
I stopped hanging out and assuming friendships with gay men because they were aesthetically pleasing. I now befriend any guy that I have common interests with. Most of whom are very artistic, sensitive, self assured, amazing souls.
We share a common thread in the fact that we are different. How refreshing that was to establish that kind of bond. Finally!
The second thing I did:
I quit focusing on trying to be the one who rebels agains the “cool” gay guys. It’s just a really immature place to come from. Yes, I can sometimes revert and be snarky, but I am much more concerned with rallying the gay guys out there that are like myself. Cuz let’s face it…there are plenty of us out there! Maybe not exactly like me. But, just like me!
The third thing I did:
I got brutally honest. Honest about my pain, honest about my dreams, about my pitfalls. The more authentic I become with you, the less I need to hide. That is freedom! Every time I share my self discoveries with another gay man, there is a connection made. I get some more freedom. And maybe they can relate and not feel so alone with their own frustrated fears.
So fucking what if we don’t fit in with the circuit queens at the gay bars!
So what if we stumble over our words when we meet an attractive guy, because it fuels some insecurity.
They are no better. We are no worse.
We are just different!
Let’s take some of our unique qualities, cultivate them, and start sharing them, so that others out there know they aren’t alone.
I’m done punishing myself for being different.
This is our time.
Let’s celebrate it!
So, let me know what you’re doing to help yourself feel more comfortable, exactly the way you are. More importantly, what are you doing to help someone else?
One of my favorite movie quotes is from that 90’s teen film, “The Craft”.
When the four witches are getting off the city bus and the bus driver says to Fairuza Balk’s character, “You girls watch out for those weirdos!” She responds smugly, “We are the weirdos, mister.”
Me with my grandparents, Halloween…1985

I Care…But, I Really Don’t Give a Fuck!!

I care what you think. Yep. I admit it. 

I have a deep seated desire to be liked, related to, understood, and accepted by people; by virtual strangers!
Sound insane? There’s more…
When I’m surrounded by gay men:
In a club, at the gym, walking down the street…I fear being judged, unliked, spoken poorly of, and shunned.
Have you ever considered how much of the day you spend wondering and worrying about what other people are thinking about you? How about what your loved ones, friends, lovers, associates are thinking of you?
Here’s a valuable lesson I’ve learned over the past several years:
I will always care what you and other people think about me to a certain extent..it’s in my nature. But, at the end of the day..I really don’t give a fuck!
I am sensitive. I want to be accepted and loved by people. But, I’ll be damned if I’m going to allow myself to be defined by your perceptions of who you think I should be.
I’ve spoken about being in an anonymous subculture, where sobriety is the emphasis. In this subculture, it is recommended that you get yourself a “sponsor” to help guide you through 12 tenets.
In 2008 I came across a woman who forever altered the course of my life. She is controversial, she is passionate, and she has the ability to translate the meaning behind these 12 tenets like no one I’ve ever met. She became my sponsor.
One of the major traditions practiced in this subculture says:
“Our leaders are but trusted servants..They do not govern”
Over time I realized that my sponsor was a dictator.
And boy, does she govern.
She governs a “church” inside of this subculture. Where she is the self proclaimed “High Priestess”.
She ordains sycophants as her “junkie disciples”.
These sycophants run around to other meetings outside of her “church”, foaming at the mouth, spouting off her quotes like rabid evangelists.
You must conform to her rules, or you are quickly excommunicated from her world.
I learned many important spiritual laws from this woman. I was also, like the rest of her followers, perpetually at her mercy.
She told me I was living a “double life” because I was trying to become a spiritual man while still shooting Porn.
She told me I was “blocked spiritually” because I danced across the stages of the world in a jock strap.
So, I can’t be spiritual as a sex worker??
Let’s talk about that for a second…
I love being a notorious gay public figure. Does that mean I can’t meditate and live a spiritual life as well?? Bullshit!
I allowed her judgements to fragment my belief system and my self esteem.
I use this story as an example to you guys because I want you to ask yourself this:
How many times in your life have you really enjoyed something you were doing, (a job, an art, a hobby, or a lifestyle) but because someone you love (your partner, mentor, parent, or friends) judged you for it….you began to doubt yourself?
When have you bought into someone else’ bullshit and swallowed your “light”, cuz they said it wasn’t right??
If you are doing anything that empowers you, makes you feel good about yourself, and brings you to your “Fire”…DO IT!!!
And if anyone (no matter who they are to you) tries to tell you that what you’re doing makes you a less righteous, less spiritual, or less beautiful person because their God says so…
Politely tell them to go fuck themselves.
We as gay men have got to be exactly who we are meant to be, or we are sacrificing our own personal and spiritual growth to conform to other people’s beliefs.
 And the next time you are at the gay bar or gym and you’re feeling bent, wondering what all the other gay guys are thinking about you…Take a good look at yourself in the mirror and give yourself a little wink.
Cuz you are fucking beautiful inside and out!

All We Are

Hey Everyone!

Happy Labor Day weekend.

I was going through some of my past writing, and this piece grabbed me today. All of my pieces are like my children. Little sparks of my soul. And this one was screaming to be heard today.

I believe as gay men, in 2014, we really need to focus on one another’s gifts. Celebrate our inner beauty. And support one another for all that we are.

This is, “All We Are”…

I was a tall, skinny, awkward gay child. I had ears that stuck out funny and a big, Italian nose. To say that I was bullied, harassed, and picked on while growing up would be an understatement.

I’ve struggled a good portion of my life, battling chemical dependency.
I also have a laundry list of other character defects that I deal with on a daily basis. It’s sad to think of how many years I wasted, beating myself up for some of this “stuff”.
Guilt, remorse, self blame.. Drowning in a sea of it all.
I seriously believed that I was uniquely insufficient as a man, because I had all these “issues”.
Self centeredness was really my problem.
I failed to see the big picture.
Sure…Some of my challenges may not parallel yours. But, here’s the big truth:
We are all dealing with “stuff”!
So, where do we go from here?
As gay men, I think we spend far too much time worrying about what the fuck is wrong with ourselves, instead of simply accepting what we have as the whole package.
Sure, there are things that I have going on right now that require immediate attention. Yep. I also possess some less than admirable qualities that need some refining.
But, I’m so done with separating myself into the “Bad Me” and the “Good Me”.
I wouldn’t be the man I am today if not for all of these qualities…”Good” and “Bad”
I also don’t think we’d be having so many personal conflicts with one another, as gay men, if we just accepted ourselves for all that we are.
True Story:
I usually go to war with someone who is pulling some shit that I’ve pulled in the past. Especially when it’s shit that I’ve not been willing to address or accept within myself.
What I’m getting at here is:
Can we truly forgive ourselves? Be proud of who we are as gay men? Can we learn to observe our character defects, and address them rationally, instead of hatefully?
I don’t know about you guys, but I didn’t get this emotionally “bent” overnight. It’s obviously gonna take some time to “straighten” out.

“Not Just Another Contender” ~ Review for my latest Naked Kombat scene

I recently shot, what turned out to be, the most primal, aggressive scene of my career. Naked Kombat. for Kinkmen.com was a completely unscripted wrestling match.  We fought to fuck. I was pushed to the very edge of my physical limitations with this scene, and I conquered!

Here is a review and some shots from the match:



Naked Kombat’s August 13 release features the return of Jimmy “The Bulldozer” Bullet battling hardbodied hunk Nick “The Contender” Capra. Nick instantly sets me firing on all cylinders. Jimmy starts the pre-kombat interviews. This is the point at which the opponent is told to stand in the background silently, letting the fighter in the foreground answer the questions tossed from off camera. I don’t hear a word that Jimmy says because Nick is stealing the scene in an instant. He shifts from foot to foot. He looks down at his smoking hot body, clearly enjoying what he sees. Jimmy is probably trying to sound intimidating (not that I’m listening), but Nick’s perfect response is to roll his eyes and stare at the ceiling a while. Wordlessly, Nick’s body language communicates a well-formed, 3-dimensional character. He’s fucking proud of his tanned, hard body with hairy pecs and fantastic bubble butt, and he’s supremely confident, cocky even, in his chances with pale rider Jimmy. Not even the legendary Rusty Stevens managed to telegraph so completely the fully formed persona of a contemptuous heel before ever opening his mouth or slapping on a hold.


When asked how they prepared for the match in the pre-kombat interviews, most NK pornboys say that they worked on cardio, lifted some weights, had a good breakfast. When it’s Nick’s turn to answer, he says that he worked pre-match preparation with his Jiu-Jitsu trainer. Um, Jimmy?  This is going to be a long day for you.  I had been titillated by Jimmy’s promise that he’d ride Nick like a pony in victory, but I’m not holding my breath now.


I believe Nick’s claim to Jui-Jitsu training. Early on there are several moments where it seems clear that he’s barely restraining himself from delivering what would surely be knock out strikes, managing to stay within the low impact rules of NK. Thus hamstrung, Nick finds Jimmy keeping pace as they initially jockey for position. Jimmy is the first to manage to rip his opponent’s trunks off (which counts for NK points toward final victory). Nick occasionally looks like he’s focused more on form and finesse, which slows down the action. But soon enough, the match belongs entirely to Nick.


Oil. I have a deep, lustful nostalgia for oil wrestling. I wish more contemporary homoerotic wrestling included soaking two hardbodied, fully aroused hunks in baby oil. NK still pull this device out on occasion, and I LOVE the look of these two hunks glistening under the lights. Nick is tanned, with hairy pecs. He’s dark and handsome. He looks like a Tony Soprano henchman who’d model for men’s cologne on the side. Jimmy is pale with a ginger beard and closely cropped dishwater blond hair. He’s long and hot and I’m sure my knees would go weak if he gave me second look across the bar, but damn it all if he doesn’t look merely mortal side by side with badaboom Nick.


As I’ve said many times before, I tend to fast forward through much of the NK sex rounds. But I pushed pause and rewind a lot this time. Nick wins by a landslide. I really was trying to pay attention to the final score, but there was Nick, fully aroused, pumped, and consuming my attention. He quickly grabs Jimmy by the head, forces him to his knees, and makes the loser start sucking his cock. Honestly, watching guys suck cock isn’t nearly as satisfying for me as an OTK backbreaker, for example, but fuck me, Nick is such a work of art I’m pretty entranced by this visual. He’s shaped like a comic book superhero. That glorious ass, narrow waist, and thick pecs cut a gorgeous profile.


My speedometer hits 100 when Nick drags his prey up to his feet and lifts his right hand behind his head. Hungrily, eagerly, Jimmy starts licking Nick’s pit. If it was intended to be humiliating for the loser, Jimmy’s eagerness nips that in the bud. And my full-on identification with Jimmy here makes this a powerfully authentic moment, as he engages in unadulterated muscle worship.


Part of the reason I fast forward through NK sex rounds is that they often read as so entirely scripted, but there’s something about the muscle worship vignette here that sells me hard. Jimmy goes to town with his tongue on Nick’s hot, hairy pecs. The closer he gets to Nick’s nips, the more eager Nick becomes, momentarily flipping the script as the winner commands, with a barest hint of pleading, for Jimmy to suck his nipples. Jimmy obeys, and Nick’s head rolls backward in ecstasy.


Nick is grooving hard on having his nips serviced. He demands that Jimmy bite his nipples. When Jimmy really bears down on the mouthwatering feast, Nick groans. There’s a moment when they both appear transported. They both look like they’re consumed in total ecstasy. Neither pornboy would want to be anywhere else in the world at this moment. I buy it. I buy it. I buy it. What a sell!


Nick insists on Jimmy eating his ass, which again could read as humiliation, but Jimmy is far too into it for that to be the text. And Nick’s ass is just too fucking munchable! 99 times out of a 100, I’d skip rimming, whether it comes to giving, receiving, or watching. But damn it all if this isn’t the 1 in a 100 scene, made so engaging by that super high quality ass and Jimmy’s gasping, voracious enthusiasm.

To watch the trailer for the scene, go to: http://www.mansurfer.com/video/84408/jimmy-bullet-nick-capra


Love Isn’t War

I’ve been spending quite a bit of time ruminating over the recent attack that left Christy Mack nearly dead.  To see a young woman, so completely beaten by a man makes me angry, resentful, and ashamed to be a part of the male demographic. Much more, Christy has received so much hate through social media from people saying she deserved this attack, because she was a porn star. It sickens me. No woman EVER “deserves” to be hit by a man.

I wrote a short piece last night, as I always do, when something is rolling over and over in my mind.

You promised her your love, and she gave to you her heart, When did that warrant you tearing her apart? The covenant of love, plagued by your violent slides, The beast that lies inside you, hid beneath your empty eyes; It brings upon a thrill, to posses the throws to kill; Broken, bleeding dying there, you sought more blood to spill. She found the will to live, she found the strength to run, Now she will rise again, like the burning sun

Beneath those empty eyes, a killer lies inside, now he tries in vain to win; a war machine wreathing sin.

Here is the story of what happened to Christy…

“I have no recollection of how many times I was hit, I just know my injuries that resulted from my beating,” Mack said. “My injuries include 18 broken bones around my eyes, my nose is broken in 2 places, I am missing teeth and several more are broken.”

Mack said she can’t chew or see out of her left eye. “My speech is slurred from my swelling and lack of teeth. I have a fractured rib and severely ruptured liver from a kick to my side,” Mack said.

Her leg was so badly injured that she can’t walk and she has “several lesions” from a knife Koppenhaver retrieved from her kitchen, she said.

Mack also said her ex “sawed much of my hair off with this dull knife.”

Mack continued, “He has beaten me many times before, but never this badly. He took my phone and canceled all of my plans for the following week to make sure no one would worry about my whereabouts. He told me he was going to rape me, but was disappointed in himself when he could not get hard.”

Mack then explained how she escaped:

After another hit or two, he left me on the floor bleeding and shaking, holding my side from the pain of a broken rib. He left the room and went to the kitchen where I could hear him ruffling through my drawers. Assuming he was finding a sharper, more stable knife to end my life, I ran out my back door, shutting it behind me so the dogs didn’t run inside to tip him off. I hopped the fence to the golf course behind my house and ran to a neighboring house. Naked and afraid he would catch me, I kept running through the neighborhood knocking on doors. Finally, one answered and I was brought to the hospital and treated for my injuries.




Remembering What Love Is

I wrote this piece, “Remembering What Love Is”, May 7th of this year.  The one year anniversary of Tony’s death. I cannot tell you what it feels like to have lost the love of my life. I can tell you that I write about this experience because I want people who have endured this kind of pain, to know that they’re not alone. And I want those who don’t understand, to know what a beautiful man I was touched by. This man was my world. The only man in my life, thus far, to have touched me so deeply.

On August 4, 2010, Tony and I drove to Santa Barbara to see Stevie Nicks. It was his first Stevie show. I got him right to the stage when she encored with “Edge of Seventeen”, and I snapped a pic of Stevie, just as she was reaching down to grab Tony’s hand. I will never forget the childlike joy on his face when she grabbed him. Coincidentally, this was the first show that Stevie ever performed the piano ballad, “Love Is”. She closed the set with that song. Tony and I held hands, watching her sing this intimate ballad about Love found…and Love lost. So, to answer anyone’s question…My favorite song by Stevie will ALWAYS be “Love Is”. It reflects the love I feel for Tony. Our relationship. And the terrible sadness that I feel to this day, after losing him. This is, “Remembering What Love Is”

Remembering What Love Is

Four years ago, January 28th, 2010….

I went out on a date with a man named Tony Serafini. Soon after that first date, I fell in love.
Hopelessly, passionately, uncontrollably in love. Tony was the most significant, beautiful, kind, infuriating creature I have ever met in my life.
Suffice to say, over the course of 2 1/2 years, Tony became the Beauty to my Beast.
He was refined, poised, soft spoken, kind to everyone he met, and held himself with a level of dignity that I could only hope to one day achieve.
There were so many qualities about Tony that made me love him, and that made me want to grow to be a better man.
Today will always mark the anniversary of not only the day I met my greatest love, but a crucial turning point in my life.
Love is the first night we had dinner together and I had to excuse myself to use the bathroom. I literally went in the stall and prayed to God to calm my fears because you were so beautiful and intimidating to me. 
Our first Valentines Day together downtown. The polaroid we took together at dinner. You holding my hand in “straight” public for the first time. Line dancing together at Mo’s, and  the two of us tripping all over the dance floor because you told me to lead and then you insisted on leading. All those nights you would wait for me to get comfortable in bed with you and then tell me that you wanted dessert. How many times I walked from your apartment to City Deli to get your carrot cake and black and white cookies. I made that walk easily 100 times in 2 1/2 years and I bitched every time, but smiled to myself cuz I loved how happy and content you would look eating your desserts. Love is the big smile that would break out across your face when I called you, “Lil’ Babies”. And you would cry out to me, “Papa!!” All of our trips to Sunset Cliffs, where we sat at the cliff that we called the “Edge of the World”, and shared our Quiznos sandwiches with one another. The way you melted every time I called you my “Sweet Prince”. Love is the way you would sing to me and how much you shined when I praised your beautiful voice. The gut level laughter we shared when you mimicked Ms Shug from the Color Purple. Santa Barbara…The awe you had in your eyes as we drove up the freeway along the cliffs, with the mist coming in off of the ocean. You and me, Standing on the beach, holding hands…staring at the sea. The way you were reduced to childlike giggles when Stevie Nicks grabbed your hands at the Santa Barbara show. You shouted, “I’m never washing my hands again!” Love is, the way you grabbed my hand when Stevie closed the show with her piano ballad, “Love Is”. Our song,  Italian Summer, which we agreed would be our first dance at our wedding, while both our mom’s watched us. Snow ball fights at the top of the mountains, overlooking Palm Springs. You proudly strutting around in underwear that said, ‘Property of Mr Capra”. God, how you loved to be the center of my world! And babe…You always were. Taking you shopping for clothes and how happy you got when I pampered you. I never loved making another man smile, more than I did you. The way you came bounding to my door, unannounced, when I didn’t return your calls cuz I was sick and slept in. You had tears in your eyes, you were so worried. No man had ever been so chivalrous towards me. I cried when I saw how much you cared and loved me. ALL OF OUR DINNERS OUT! God, babe…You and I loved our food!! Laying in bed, holding hands, discussing life, and where we were headed. Mob Wives, Dancing With The Stars, True Blood, Real Housewives of Atlanta, New Jersey, and Beverly Hills, and of course..your favorite…The Vampire Diaries. Me begging you for one more kiss every night and you pushing me away…but always giving in. Lady Gaga twice. Watching you jump up and down with your hand up, fist  in a claw, with all the other “Little Monsters”. Reading, “Journey of Souls” together. Discussing each chapter intimately. We both truly believed in the accounts that were documented in that book, and we had so many amazing discussions about the souls journey after it departs the physical world. Beautiful hotels we stayed at. Laying at the resort pools and lounging together. The many beautiful emails and letters we wrote one another over the years. Watching you dance your ass off at all the pride parties, saturday nights out, and holding you in my arms on the dance floor. Our 2nd Valentines Day…You walked into my apartment and it was covered in rose petals, moon stones, rose quartz, tiger eye, and candles EVERYWHERE. I will never forget the expression of surprise and joy when you said, “You did all this for me???”  
For you…babe. It was easy. It was one of the greatest privileges I ever had, just to make you smile. The sound of your laughter. It echoes through my mind as I write this. Love is, your beautiful monotone voice. The sweet scent of your cologne on your soft skin. The night you told me you were falling in love with me. Sitting in my car. Peter Gabriel’s, “In Your Eyes”, playing on the radio. I melted. I loved you from the day we met. I just never had the courage to say it until that night.
Every man I have ever dated before and after you was living in Nick’s world. You were the first man to bring me out of my world. We shared a world together. Sometimes we clashed. But, you took me so far out of myself, babe. I woke up every morning thinking about what I was going to do to make you smile that day, and went to sleep peacefully when I knew I had succeeded. 
You were the love of my life.
Thank you, my sweet, precious prince. Thank you for blessing me with the most amazing adventure I have ever experienced with another human being.
And thank you, from the bottom of my heart , for teaching me what love truly is.
In loving memory of Anthony Charles Serafini
June 1, 1967 ~ May 7, 2013
Here is the link to the live version of “Love Is.”
Below…Pictures of Tony and I, Aug 4, 2010, at the Stevie show in Santa Barbara. And, the pic I got of Steve, right as she was reaching down to grab Tony’s hand,
Stevie Nicks 8-4-10 001 copy
Stevie Nicks 8-4-10 051