Can You Be Addicted to a Person?
Yesterday on Twitter I saw someone mention something about being addicted to a person. I’m sure it was in jest, however, it made me stop and think if it’s actually possible to be addicted to a person. I know people who are co-dependent. I think every married couple has a tendency to become that way over time. A family member was with his partner for almost 20 years and then they broke up but still remain business associates…a kind of co-dependency. But can you become *addicted* to a person?
I’m not sure that’s possible. I follow people regularly on social media because I’ve either formed a bond with them, I respect them, they make me laugh, or just because there’s something about them I really like. Sometimes they inspire me and they become muses. Especially on Twitter where you find yourself interacting with the same people who follow the same people. Maybe that’s an addiction…or a form of addiction. Again, I’m not sure. In almost every single case it’s more about respect and admiration. It’s not even fandom. I think fandom is a completely different thing.
The reason I’m getting into this right now is because in the fifth book in The Rainbow Detective series, The Scottish Duke, one of the characters becomes “obsessed” with Proctor Gamble, (Proctor is one of the main characters in the series), and as the book progresses it becomes apparent this was not as much obsession as it was admiration, love, and great respect. I don’t want to go any deeper because I would be dropping spoilers if I did. I just think it’s interesting to speculate about whether or not we can actually become addicted to people…or not. I did a simple search and some think it is possible.
In any event, I’ve posted a free unpublished excerpt below from The Scottish Duke, where I get into the “obsession” part…that really isn’t an obsession. It’s a 45,000 word novel and I’ll post more when I get closer to a release date. The first four books in the series are also being sold in a box set on Amazon and they are free with KU. Link, below.
The Great Gay Movie
This is being dubbed in some places as what could be “The Great Gay Movie.” I’ve been reading about it for a while now and I’m curious. I agree to a certain extent with The Great Gay Movie part. I’ve seen a lot of good ones, but none I can call great…yet. It stars Julianne Moore.
With the impending release of Freeheld, a fact-based story about New Jersey police detective Laurel Hester (Moore) who is stricken with terminal lung cancer and tries to secure her pension for her partner (Ellen Page), an auto mechanic, before she dies. As an attorney who represents the couple, Steve Carrell looks to have found a role that combines his singular brand of comedy (The Office) with his capacity for hard-hitting drama (Foxcatcher earned him an Oscar nod earlier this year).
I don’t know about great, but it sounds good. I like films like this set in New Jersey, partly because I’m from New Jersey and partly because it shows people that New Jersey is NOTHING like that reality show, The Jersey Shore. The rest is here.
Boyfriend Experiment in Russia
I missed this one somehow. There was an experiment in Russia where two gay men walked around holding hands in public. It was filmed with a hidden camera. The results will make you wonder why people like Robbie Roberts still want to go there and support anything related to Russia.
A hidden camera captured an unyielding barrage of insults, slurs, skunk-eyed stares, and physical intimidation, culminating in one extremely tense confrontation.
To shed light on the reality of LGBT life in other hostile areas, Bird in Flight magazine decided to repeat the exercise in Kiev, Ukraine.
Things really didn’t go so well.
A group of neo-nazis or extreme-right men approaches the couple, asking them if they are patriots and getting aggressive.
You can read more here. This is why I’m so adamant about NOT supporting Russia in anything. LGBT people in Russia deserve the same kind of support the US has given to people in other countries for treatment like this.
Free Gay Book Excerpt
After Proctor started his BMW, he entered the address where the detective wanted to meet him in West Hollywood in the GPS system. He knew he’d forget it if he didn’t. It was a part of town with which he wasn’t familiar and he’d never been to that particular apartment complex. In fact, there were many sections of Los Angeles with which Proctor had never been familiar because he’d moved to the west coast after he’d become a success. He knew the Hollywood Hills, he knew Holmby Hills, and he could find his way around Beverly Hills with a blindfold, but he’d never really become familiar with sections of the city like West Hollywood. He usually depended on Blair for things like this. Although Blair wasn’t as familiar with Beverly Hills, he knew every last section of Los Angeles, from the docks to the smallest fish taco joint in West Hollywood.
His GPS led him to a dingy white stucco apartment complex that looked as if it had been built in the 1960’s. It was the kind of place where someone either started out or wound up, a building where a young transient dreamer trying to break into show business would live with two or three roommates, or an older soul on government assistance who had discovered that most dreams don’t come true after all. The way the unkempt curtains and old blinds hung lop-sided in the windows gave Proctor an empty feeling in his gut. All the front doors were this hideous shade of dark orange, the trim around each window in bright green, and the chain link fence surrounding the pool had rusted over in most places and no one seemed eager to keep it up. After Proctor’s manager had run off with all his money and left him with practically nothing, this apartment complex was the worst of Proctor’s nightmares and why he was still so determined to make The Rainbow Detective Agency work.
When he spotted the number of the apartment the detective had given him at the back end of the complex, he pulled into a parking space not far from the door and climbed out of the car. He glanced around and saw no one; just more dirty windows with bad blinds and crooked curtains, flanked by that awful bright green trim that reminded him of a cheap swimsuit he’d once worn for a lesser known designer. The same designer had been asking Proctor to model again and he’d been thinking about it seriously. Proctor still worked out and had the body of a man in his twenties, the cheap swimsuit line actually did get a great deal of exposure, and they were willing to pay him quite a bit of money. He’d told them he would think about it and get back, and he knew he had to do that soon.
He walked up to the orange door and knocked. A second or two later, a tall man with dark hair wearing a navy sport jacket and light slacks opened the door and looked Proctor up and down. As the man stared at him in the most unusual way, Proctor squared his back and said, “I’m Proctor Gamble. Are you Detective Schechter?”
“Ah, yes,” the detective said. He stepped to the right so Proctor could enter. “Thank you for coming here on such short notice.”
As Proctor entered and looked around, he found a forensic team examining various sections of the small apartment. Then he blinked and pressed his palm to his throat. When he saw his own image plastered on every single wall, everywhere he looked, he felt a chill throughout his entire body.
At first, he remained speechless, gaping at his own likeness, some photos splattered with blood. Then he took a breath and said, “I don’t understand. What is all this?”
Detective Schechter escorted him to the other side of the small room, where a broken down table had been set up as a makeshift desk. On the table Proctor noticed an old fashioned desktop computer, with a huge monitor, a keyboard so old most of the letters weren’t visible anymore, and an eight by ten framed photo of Proctor when he’d done a headshot for publicity about ten years ago.
“I was hoping you’d know more about this,” Detective Schechter said. “Have you ever been here before?”
Proctor couldn’t wait to get out of there. If there was any truth to the old saying “someone just walked cross my grave,” he now knew what it was like to experience that. “Of course I’ve never been here before. Why on earth would I come here? I don’t even know what all this is about.”
Detective Schechter sent him a long, serious glance and leaned against a counter next to the makeshift desk. “I’m investigating the death of a best-selling writer known as E. Q. Montana. His real name was Elizabeth Stumpf. E. Q. wrote gay romance, with a pen name, and it seems that he based most of his characters on you.”
Proctor’s head started to pound. “He? I thought you said her name was Elizabeth.”
The Rainbow Detective Agency
Four books in One