Hello hello! I wanted to stop by and say hello. So, hello! After the finale of my series 'Spilling The Tea', I sort of stopped of and sopped updating the website. After receiving various messages of people asking when I'd return to the blog (well, when I'd bring the 'SpillingThe Tea' series back), I figured I should make some sort of post explaining where I've been, and when I'm returning: First, I hate to day it, but I'm not sure when I'm returning. I know it'll be soon, just, not sure on how soon. Second, I disappeared because I'm currently working on a book. Yes, I'm writing a book! The novel I'm writing is fiction, and has the following synopsis: Lane is a gay famous fashion model from Houston, whose boyfriend died under strange circumstances. Shortly after the death of his boyfriend, Lane is unexpectedly diagnosed with HIV. Lane's gay-cousin Kevin to move in with Lane to keep an eye on him while exploring city-life for the very first time. As Lane tries to figure out how he contracted the virus, Kevin investigates what really happed to Lane's boyfriend, and uncovers all of the dark secrets that Lane is hiding from everyone... The book has heavy themes of chosen-family and loneliness -- supported by a backbone of showing the destructive nature of organized-religion, while showing many of the unspoken struggles that queer people still face in the South today. The book follows four friends, and is loosely inspired by HBO’s Girls, and is classified as a comedy-drama, that has a heavy social commentary of how much more progress we still need to make in today's society. My goal with publishing this novel is to push boundaries of acceptance, raise money for non-profits like The Trevor Project, and ultimately -- my biggest goal with the book is to eventually get it banned in Southern states, such as Florida, Texas, Mississippi, etc. I'm not doing this to kindly ask the goal-post to move over, I'm doing this to shove my way through the current barriers places upon queer-people. I will not move the goal-post over, I'll be tearing it down and building a new one, and will be doing it kicking-and-screaming if I have to. We all deserve better. I have already been working on it for four months. While I work on completing my novel, I'll proceed to searching for ways to get the story published. I will keep everyone updated here, and on my instagram (@theoolongrunk). I can't wait to share with everyone what I've been working on! I'll see you all very soon. Best wishes, ~Cody Wade aka The Oolong Drunk "Blissfully Tea Drunk"

Spilling The Tea, Part 8 (Series Finale): The Person I Hate the Most  Dear Reader,  I believe we’ve gotten the closest we've ever gotten, this year. I have admitted so many things to you, and I truly believe you probably understand me better than anyone else. I’ve tried my best to paint myself as complex, complicated, and above all else, I’ve tried to paint myself as human… However, despite all of my confessions and despite all of my reasons, there’s one that sits above all the rest. In the pettiest way possible, there is one person who really stands above the rest for me. There is one person who I’ve had the most run-ins with and is the person I actually hate the absolute most. But first, we need to take a detour. I need to walk you through what a typical week of my life looks like. My week starts on Saturday. I wake up to a tear-stained pillowcase, eat breakfast, and scroll dating apps for a few minutes. I swipe right on a few cute guys, see that all of my messages in my inbox have still been ignored, and then move on with my morning. I’ll then pack my backpack, drive over to Trident Booksellers in Boulder, and order tea. I’ll sit at a booth/table, pull out my Word document on my laptop, and I’ll get to writing. “I’ll start a new series called ‘Spilling the Tea’. One of the most reoccurring compliments I receive on my blog is that I am always raw and vulnerable when I do decide to open up (specifically, on my Blog anniversary Posts). So, why not start a series where I can showcase that?”  After pondering for a few moments, I gathered an outline. Eight stores from my past. Eight truths. Eight life lessons.  At the time, it felt pretty simple.  However, it wasn’t.  I was digging deep into my past because overall, I keep failing. I keep losing. I keep going through the same trauma and turmoil over and over again. So, with these eight stories where I can explore some of the most chaotic moments in my past few years, just maybe I can pinpoint where I went wrong.  After all, every story in this series took place within the same 16-month period. Crazy, right? I know. Two to three hours later, I’ll look up from my laptop and look around. I’ll see a mixture of guys around. Some of them are really cute. I’ll secretly hope some of them are gay and think to myself, “I can’t really tell which way they swing… Maybe they’ll be on a dating app.”  So, I’ll pull out a gay dating app, check to see that one of the guys is actually gay, and send them a ‘hello’ message.  They’ll ignore the message, so I’ll look around the shop again.  I’ll then go to work on a new blog post, pack up my backpack, have a short convo with the shop owner before leaving for home.   Once home, I’ll go to the gym and work out. I’ll then eat dinner, drink tea while watching a movie (typically Ghibli), and tinker with the idea of going to a gay bar down in Denver. It’s around thirty minutes away from my apartment, which is usually the thing holding me the most back from just automatically saying yes. After bartering with myself for an hour, I’ll get off the couch, get dressed, and fully submit myself to the idea of going to Denver… An hour later, I’ll walk into the gay nightclub. It's the same one where I keep seeing my ex from the second story in the series ). And, this is the same place where I regularly watch drag.  I’ll walk around the club awkwardly, sit and wait to watch Drag by myself and say hi to whoever sits by me. The Drag show will go on, and for those thirty minutes, I’ll lose myself in the performance. I’ll cheer on the performer, take a photo or two, and enjoy the time alone.  Once the Drag show is over, I’ll make my way over to the dance floor.  I’ll dance by myself, but, I don’t care. I have the music by my side, after all. As long as I can sing to a song that the DJ plays, I can normally find comfort in being in the middle of a dance floor and doing my own thing After dancing by myself for a bit, I’ll make eye contact with a guy who spots me from across the dance floor.  He’ll come up, ask me where I’m from, and I’ll say, “Just outside of Boulder.” “Oh, that’s so  far from Denver,” he’ll say. “It’s only thirty minutes away,” I’ll reply back. He’ll then look around awkwardly before getting lost in the crowd. Now, I’ll be dancing by myself again. But, I was there for drag originally, and stayed for the music, so it doesn’t really matter.  I’ll then look around the club and notice all of the other gay guys. I’ll then notice that they are with friends, with dates, or even their boyfriends. Then, I’ll check my phone and see that it’s almost 1:00 am. Given I do live a small trek away (but not a large one), I’ll then leave and drive home. On Sunday, I’ll wake up at 8:00 am. Despite that, I went to sleep at 3:00 am, and my body clock is still programmed from work. I’ll wake up feeling drunk, despite that I didn’t drink. I’ll go to the gym again while feeling weak, get groceries, and then go to bed early for work… On Monday, I’ll wake up and go to work. I’ll chat with my coworkers and hear about how they spent their weekend. It usually involves their partners, their husbands, or their families. I’m usually happy for them. However, they’re living a life that I’m not familiar with. They all graduated college, married their husbands or wives right after school, and have a home with their said partner. They’ll talk about how they went out with their partners, went shopping with their partners, traveled with their partners, or some variation of spending time with their family. Then, I’ll leave work, go to the gym, and then go home by myself…. Tuesday through Thursday, I’ll go to work, go to the gym, and go home to eat by myself. I’ll then set my alarm, go to bed by myself, and wake and go to work. However, after three days, I’ll change my routine when Friday rolls around. On Friday evening, I’ll skip the gym and go straight home. After working all week, I’m usually tired. However, I noticed something about my week — it was full of people who have other people.  While curious, I log into another gay dating app. I’ll see that there are a few messages from a few other guys who are local. After chatting for an hour or two, we’ll determine that we’re usually into different things: On this app, they are looking for sex. For me, I want to date. As for myself, once I mention that I’m not looking for sex, but rather, looking to date, they’ll either ghost me or block my profile. After sensing that there’s a strong avoidant attachment style on the app, I’ll log off. Later that night, curiosity will get the best of me. I’ll log back in and see a message from a gay guy whose actually near me in proximity. I’ll reply, and eventually, we’ll be having a conversation.   Our conversation will lead to exploring each other’s wants and will lead to me finding out that he’s only on for sex. And, he wants to meet up.  After giving it thought, I’ll think back to how I’ll spend all week alone. I haven’t been on a date for months, so why not meet up with another guy?  So, I’ll agree, and we’ll meet up. The guy will come over, and after already agreeing on what we’d do, he’ll follow me to my room. He’ll kiss me passionately like we already had some preexisting hot summer romance. And, I’ll do the same back. He’ll hold me, and I’ll hold him. Eventually, we’ll lie there and cuddle for a bit. I’ll then think to myself, “Oh, this is what it feels like to be passionate and cuddle with a partner. This is what all of my friends and co-workers get to experience. Intimacy is normal for them, and in some form or fashion, I’m normal too.”  But, he does leave. When he does, I’ll suddenly feel empty. I’ll shower, lie in bed by myself, and go to sleep. The next morning, I’ll wake up and realize that I’m myself again. I’ll roll over, and start to get teary-eyed. My pillow case will now be stained with tears. I’ll breathe heavily, let out a few more tears, and then end my pity party by getting dressed, packing my laptop, and going back to Trident to write another blog post. After I write my new post, I’ll then look around and see if anyone from the shop is also on the gay dating app. I’ll say hello to someone who is near, but they’ll never reply, and I’ll go back to getting lost in my writing.  I’ll go back to Denver to the club, meet a few great gay guys before they get the ‘ick’ over me living 30 minutes away, then drive home. Go to bed at 3:00 am.  Wake up feeling hung-over, despite not drinking. I’ll go to work. I’ll hear about my coworker’s families, and disappear into the week again.  Friday night will roll around, and I’ll be so burned out on being alone that I’ll go to a gay dating app and chat with guys for a bit. After failing at flirting, I’ll chat with someone who’ll want to hook up. However, I still feel empty from the last time I did it, so I counter-offer the proposal of a hook-up with an offer to go on a date.  He’ll read the message and close the chat without replying. I’ll never hear from him again. I’ll wake up the next morning and cry again, from feeling empty. I’ll compose myself, pack my backpack for Trident, and go work on another blog post.  I’ll go to Denver, dance by myself, and give someone the ‘ick’ because I live thirty miles away.  I’ll wake up the next day hung over. Go to bed early, then wake up and hear about my coworker's lives.  However, on this particular Monday, a co-worker whose on maternity leave came in with her brand-new baby. Everyone in the office will come up to the front, take turns holding the baby, and say, “Hey Cody, you haven’t held the baby yet. Want to hold the baby?” I’ll force a smile on my face while gritting my teeth and replying, “Oh sure, I’m so happy for you!”  I'll keep the forced smile on my face while holding this baby.  “You see Cody, it won't bite! My husband and I are so happy that we get to share this joy with everyone,” the coworker said.  “Absolutely! I’m so happy for you!” I reply back while churning the words through my teeth.  A coworker then points out, “Oh Look at Cody, he’s tearing up! You see, I knew this would be good for him!” I then handed off the baby, excused myself to go to the bathroom, and dry-heave for about ten minutes before returning to work. I’ll disappear all week, chat with a guy on Friday just to be ghosted after turning down sex, wake up and cry, then go back to Trident.  Rinse and repeat. Flirt with a guy on Friday night. Cry Saturday morning. Change my pillowcase again. Watch Drag Saturday night. Give someone the ‘ick’ by living too far from the gay-neighborhood, and go to bed at 3:00 am. Then, disappear into the work week again. Friday rolls around again, I’ll be ghosted by the guy I’ve been talking to all week. Write on Saturday.  Rinse and repeat.  The next Friday, I’ll show up at a restaurant for a date and wait for over an hour before realizing I was being stood up. Cry on Saturday morning. Then, at some point, I told myself I gotta break the cycle and stop talking to guys on apps and try talking to more in person, especially friends.  Saturday night rolls around, I’ll go to the club, and instead of looking for potential partners to date. I also started going to drag-bingo on Sundays, too. I’ll go to local festivals, immerse myself in my local community, and partake in a more sober environment. Maybe then, I’ll break the cycle and find more wholesome people to fill my life with.  However, after several months of meeting people in various spaces, I have yet to hang out with a new friend.  I now have about forty un-saved phone numbers in my phone from people who I had met to make friendships with, and from people who never text me back.  Then, I’ll decide to try something different — I’ll meet up with acquaintances I know from the area instead. I already know them, so why haven’t I done this before?  I then reached out to a friend who asked to meet me for tea. She then stood me up — multiple times. And one of those times, she hurt me so bad, that I wrote about it to launch this series. However, I ran into a massive problem: When I posted the first editorial in the series , I had two friends call on joint-call me to chew me out. They called me and said that I was now being hateful.  I told them, “I’m not writing this series to ‘do anyone in’. I’m writing this series because I keep getting kicked when I’m already down. Something went wrong, and the loneliness is killing me. I’ve been through so many outlandish situations in the past 16 months, that I need to start looking inward and find the answer to the one question I keep asking myself: Where did it all go wrong?” They replied and said, “I get that, but what you’re doing is more hateful. You’re airing out people in a way that’s slamming them. Like, I understand some of these people treated you horribly, but you writing about them is worse than what they did. This isn’t about you anymore.” I got hot, my face turned red, and I shouted back at them while spitting through my teeth, “Who cares about the other person, because 'news flash', what if I really did get hurt? Does my hurt not matter? What do you mean by saying 'this isn’t about me'? Because, what if it is!?! These people move on with their lives, and meanwhile, I’m still here cleaning up the mess!  I’m the one who has to live my life; this is  about me!!" After shouting back at them, we hung up the phone, they blocked me, and another friendship ended…  From that moment on, I declared to myself that one is going to tell me what I can or cant do. No one will be able to take my voice away ever again. However, although I've been looking inward and have been healing by writing this series, I'm still left with one issue: I’m still alone.  I’ve been going through therapy, and I’ve been working on myself. I’ve been making myself a better person, so why am I still alone !? I’ve been searching for the answer to this question for the past year, and instead of finding answers,  I developed a strong hatred.  I developed a resentment, and I started developing hard feelings for the only person who was in control of my life… Me.  By writing this series, what did I learn? I learned that... I was a pushover, so I could eventually stand my own ground I was a dame in distress, so I could become my own hero. I was submissive, so I could become confident. I was crazy, so I could find my own sanity. I lost my voice, so now, I can confidentially say that I regained it.. Since I believe all of that to be true, then maybe by hating my self, I can hopefully reach a point where I'll be able to love myself again.... Although we’ve had this connection for the past nine weeks, I think it’s time that I take a break. After all, how many times can you be introspective, before you start needing a break from the walls within your own mind? Well, I’m at that point now. Although I have so much more tea I can spill to you, I think I will take a break for now and give myself some time to breathe. Don’t worry, dear reader. This isn’t a goodbye, but rather an ‘ until next time ’.  How about we both venture out and live our own lives, and come back and meet here? If I can manage to wake up every morning and power on, I know you can, too.  I'll be cheering you on. Until next time, ~Cody Wade Aka The Oolong Drunk “Blissfully Tea Drunk”  Spilling MORE Tea, a sequel to the popular editorial blog series  Spilling The Tea is coming soon Click the links below to catch up on previous segments of 'Spilling The Tea', Spilling The Tea, Part 1: Cutting Toxic People Out of Our Lives Spilling The Tea, Part 2: Killing Your Ex Spilling The Tea, Part 3: Destroying my Longest Friendship Spilling The Tea, Part 4: The Dangers of Meeting Internet Strangers at the Cat Pee Manor Spilling The Tea, Part 5: The Worst Tea Job I've Ever Taken Spilling The Tea, Part 6: I Ruined a Friendship over AI Spilling The Tea, Part 7: A Closeted Gay Ruined My Life I'd like to personally thank Samara, Rosy, Drew, MacKenna, Jason, Karissa, Joe, and April for standing by my side throughout this series. Thank you for listening, thank you for understanding, and thank you for holding my hand throughout the last 9 weeks. ~

Spilling The Tea, Part 7: A Closeted Gay Ruined My Life Hello hello! Welcome to the second-to-last editorial in this series. Gah, isn’t it crazy, Dear Reader? It feels like we just started! Well, for my emotional energy, this series feels like it’s been going on all year. If I’m being candid with you, I must admit that being vulnerable and open on a consistent basis is quite exhausting. However, do you know what else is exhausting? Authenticity.  For many people like myself, being authentic comes with the idea of being an openly gay man. While I’ve gone over my coming-out story before in this year’s pride month essay , there are a lot of aspects to being on the queer spectrum that are flat-out exhausting.  For many people who do not live life like myself, being authentic is a privilege that comes with a lot of sacrifice.   However, what happens when being authentic translates into coming out of the closet? What happens when your relationship with someone is cognitional by someone else’s ability to come out of the closet? For this, we’ll be going over how a closeted gay ruined my life… For today’s post, let’s meet Preston. Preston and I met on a gay dating app. Preston lived in the next town over, went to college, and was fairly independent. After chatting back and forth for a while, Preston and I turned our casual conversation, into a flirtatious one. We made plans for him to come over to my apartment to, well uh, 'dot dot dot'.  Well, that’s not entirely what happened.  Preston arrived at my door, and upon arriving, he looked up at me and gasped. He tensed up, and could barely say a word. You could tell that he was nervous. As for myself? I thought he was much more cute in person. For me, it felt like love at first sight.  I don’t recall Preston and I doing the 'dot dot dot', but somehow or another, we did find ourselves getting dinner and having an impromptu date.  We eventually found ourselves on the roof top of my apartment’s parking garage, and tracked flights as they flew above us. We watched the sky all night. It was pure magic. Three days later, he came back down to my apartment for another date. We got food together, cuddled on the couch, and had another romantic evening. However, while Preston was on the way out the door, he looked up at me and asked, “Hey, do you wanna be my boyfriend?” I was taken aback. I really liked Preston, but I was still weary about getting hurt again after the break-up from my last partner (which, I talked about in the series here).  But, Preston wasn’t my ex. Preston wasn’t any of those other people. To add, he was relatively younger, so maybe it would be nice to date someone with a new disposition on life, right? I was hesitant, but I said yes to his proposal. When I did, his face turned red, his eyes glittered, and he floated out of my apartment. His reaction was cute, wholesome, and sweet. His doe-eyed excitement made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. It was sweet, and it was special. However, I can’t pinpoint when exactly we had this conversation, but we did have a conversation about him being out to his family.  “Well, since I’m in college, I’m still living at home I can’t be out to my family or friends, but as things progress, I’ll come out and open up to them. Is that okay?” he asked. After having a wild coming-out story of my own, I knew that this was something that was sensitive. If anything, I just wanted him to feel happy and safe.  So, I replied to him, “Take whatever time you need, I won’t pressure you into anything.” He felt safe, and we both felt closer to each other… Thanksgiving came around, and Preston said he couldn’t see me because he had to be with family. Although we were just in a new relationship, and although I wanted to see him, I just told myself that for normal hetero-relationships, new partners don’t typically see each other on holidays. That isn’t a ‘being in the closet’ issue. However, the first road bump we had arrived shortly after Thanksgiving: was Preston’s birthday.  Preston’s birthday was at the beginning of December, and for his birthday, he wanted to have a birthday celebration with his family, and another one with his friends. For the celebration with his friends, he reserved several spots at Top Golf and invited me to go with him. He said he wanted me to meet his friends and wanted to introduce me as his boyfriend. I felt flattered, and I felt special that I’d be meeting his friends.  Until, the weekend before, when he announced that he wasn’t out to his friends, and he’d be coming out to them by introducing me to them.  While flattered, I got nervous.  And with nervousness, came another conversation with Preston. The day before, he called me and said, “Hey so, I think when we go to Top Golf, you should not announce you’re my boyfriend. My best friend Rick is going, and I don’t think he’ll react well to me coming out. Can you come as just one of my friends?” After giving it thought, I replied, “You know, I don’t want to push you into coming out, but I don’t feel comfortable lying. I already had my own coming-out journey, and I didn’t want to lie and pretend to be in the closet — especially around my boyfriend. If you want me to come, then I’ll come as your boyfriend. If you don’t feel comfortable coming out, then I’ll sit this one out and see you another time.” After some thought, I wanted to question him about why he was friends with homophobic people. However, that wasn’t my concern. I just waited for him to reply.  And to my surprise, he replied, “No, I love you, and I want you to be there. You’re a part of my life now, and that’s the way it’s going to be.”  The next day, we arrived at Top Golf. After arriving at Top Golf, Person walked in with a group of his friends. And as he introduced me to each and every one of his friends, they all seemed to be okay with him coming out. They were actually supportive.  Then, he introduced me to his best friend Rick, “Cody, this is Rick. Rick, this is my boyfriend, Cody.” Preston turned bright red, turned around, and quietly waited for a reaction.  Rick looked at me, then looked at Preston. With surprise, he said, “What?! Are you in a relationship? Since when? Why didn’t you tell me?” Very nervously, Prison quietly and quickly replied, “…because it’s with a guy.” Rick shook his head in confusion and said, “A guy? Dude, who cares about if it’s with a guy? I just wish you would have told me sooner! I'm your best friend, I want to know about your life.”  Preston let out a sigh of relief, smiled, and hugged Rick.  For the rest of the night, we all ate, played golf, and had a good time. To my surprise, and to Preston’s surprise, I got along with Rick the most out of all of these friends. Preston felt better about bringing me, and for a moment, everything was perfect between us… Then, the next weekend rolled around — the weekend he was supposed to celebrate his birthday with his family. And during the time he was supposed to be with his family, he called me crying.  Between the sobbing, he managed to explain that his family didn’t celebrate his birthday with him. His mom and dad worked for different school systems, and due to their work schedule, they both had to cancel their dinner plans with Preston. His twin-sister went out with friends, which meant, he’d be home alone. His family just gave him a gift, didn't buy him a cake, and said that they’d just celebrate it with him the next year. He tried to get out that, he didn’t feel special anymore and didn’t know what do to.  I managed to interrupt his sobbing, I encouraged him to drive down to my apartment. To this, he responded with, “I'm already on my way.”  A few minutes later, I opened my door to a crying mess of a Preston. I opened my arms as he fell into them, and continued crying. After letting him cry it out, I grabbed my keys and drove over to my local Whole Foods.  While walking into Whole Foods, he asked, “What are we doing here?” I walked him over to the bakery and said, “We’re picking out a cake. Pick out whichever one you want, and it’s on me. We have a birthday to celebrate!” His sad disposition, tuned into a happy one. The color returned to his eyes as his cheeks blushed.  “I’ve never had my own birthday cake before. I’ve always had to share with my twin sister,” he said with surprise. He picked out his own cake, then I took him to get pizza for dinner — his favorite food.  We ate, went back to my apartment, and blew out the candles on his cake.  He left my apartment feeling re-set, happy, and fulfilled. He adored me, and I adored him. And for a moment, everything was calm between us. Everything was perfect. We were an incredible match…. Until we weren’t. It was from this moment on, that Preston being in the closet started damaging our relationship.  By the way dear reader, we are reading this series on my blog. As you know by now, stories with happy endings don’t typically find themselves on my blog. The following weekend, Preston and I got tickets to see Taylor Swift’s ‘The Eras Tour’ at AMC theater. It was the last weekend it was playing at AMC, and I had wanted to see it. The closest AMC theater to us was fifteen miles south of my apartment. So, our plan was this: Go see Taylor Swift at AMC, get dinner afterward, then spend the night at my apartment. He told his parents he was going to be at a friend's house for the night, and everything was in the clear. We went to AMC, watched Taylor Swift, and had an incredible time. However, upon walking out of the theater, we saw that we were right in the middle of a snowstorm.  The weather predicted snow, but not until midnight that night. However, it started early, and all of the roads were covered.  We got into his car and drove back to my apartment.  While on my way to my apartment, we noticed one massive issue: There were no snow plows on the road, and there were dozens of cars that had slid off the road and wrecked into the ditch. Preston had experience driving in the snow, and despite that, his car spun out of control and almost hit another car, while only going 15 miles per hour.  For the fifteen miles, it took us two hours to get back to my apartment. It was the scariest car ride of my life. Immediately after arriving back at my apartment, Preston got a phone call from his dad. He stepped outside to take the call, and when he came back in, there was a problem. “He, my dad said I have to come back home.” My anxiety instantly spiked, as, his home was thirty miles north. The winter storm was worse up North, and the roads still weren’t clear.  “What all did you tell your family?!” I asked. “I told him I was with friends at the university. He thinks I’m only a few miles away from home. ,” he responded with defeat.  While still dizzy from our two-hour drive I urged him to tell his dad that he couldn’t come home at night and that the drive was too dangerous for him to make. Preston pulled out his phone, called his dad, and said, “Dad, the roads are not plowed and they’re too dangerous. I can just spend the night with my friends, and come home in the morning. The roads should be clear by then.” Then, through this phone, I could hear his dad yell, “It’s only a few miles away, Preston! The snow is bad, and you need to get home now! ” Preston hung up the phone, packed his stuff, and left. It took him three hours to go home that night.  The next morning, I eventually confronted Preston: “You’re a grown adult, and you work and support yourself. Why are your parents so strict on you being home?” He replied, “Well, they said as long as they’re paying for my college, and I live at home, then I have to abide by their rules.” I then replied, “So, why not move out? If you can’t be out of the closet to them, and they’re this controlling that you have to leave where you are safe and drive in a blizzard, then maybe you move out? Why not stand up for yourself?!” He then replied, “But, why would I move out? I have everything paid for. They even pay for my vacations. Why would I cut that off?”  I didn't want him to feel like he had to choose between his family and myself, so I dropped it. A week later, Preston and I had made plans for the weekend. However, they fell through. Preston had a family emergency, and his sister ended up in the ER for a non-life threatening ailment. His parents went to the hospital and needed him to watch the house.  When I asked when I could see him again, he said, “Well, after this week, we’ll be with family for the holidays and I can’t break away. It’ll be two or three weeks until I can see you again.”  Then, at that moment, I decided that I have had enough. It wasn’t Preston’s fault that he couldn’t be out of the closet, but this was now negatively impacting my own mental health, and was pulling on my abandonment issues. Besides, Preston already stated his priorities. However, my priorities were to be with something stable. My priorities were that I could be with someone, and not have our plans canceled last minute due to demanding family. Or, that I wouldn’t miss 4 holidays in a row without seeing my partner.  This wasn’t a relationship.   I called him and told him that I was breaking the relationship off. However, I told them that I still loved him dearly (which, I did), so I asked if we could stay friends and hold off for now. He said he understood and hung up the phone… The next day, I woke up to a distressing text from Preston, “I came out to my parents last night. I can’t handle losing you. I told them everything. I came out, and I told them about you. I couldn’t stop crying.”  Then, a week later, I came home from work to see him on my doorstep. He had several bags with him, and his face was red. He had been crying.  “What are you doing here?” I asked He replied, “I took your advice, and stood up for myself… My parents kicked me out. I’m homeless now.” He broke down and started balling. I ran over, held him, and brought him into my apartment. I cleaned him up, and after he calmed down, I asked him what happened.  He said that his family ended up taking issue with him being gay. His dad took him to their pastor at church and demanded that Preston be sent to a conversion therapy camp. After his church said no (because Preston was a full-grown adult), his parents became even more strict. He picked a fight with his dad, and his dad reacted by kicking him out. A part of me felt responsible about this, and I wanted to throw up. However, I kept calm for Preston. I convinced Preston to make amends with his dad and to reach out to his mom for help. After a few hours, his mom convinced his dad to let him back home. Before Preston left, he announced that he was going to be looking for a full-time job and would eventually move out of his parents on his own. He said he was tired of being at the mercy of other people and was ready to be independent.  So, I took him back. He had a game-plan, and I had newly-found confidence in him. However, that didn’t last long.  He eventually went back to canceling plans with me, and cited his parents as the reason why. The more I asked about him becoming independent, he kept brushing it off. Then, for a month straight, nearly every one of our plans had to be canceled or rescheduled. I tried bargaining with him, and seeing if there was a way that I could be a part of his life without his family. But, that didn’t work. He started making plans to hang with friends and refused to invite me along. He kept planning to partake in his hobbies and stopped taking me along. I kept arguing him, and it quikcly became toxic. Eventually, I confronted him about this, and he said that he had no other option. He expressed that he couldn’t move out, finding a job was too hard, and he didn’t want to give up his lifestyle. He expressed that his family was taking him to Hawaii, and after, to Europe. He even expressed that his family had a trust fund for him, and when he graduated college, they’d buy him a house with the trust fund. He said being independent wasn’t worth it when he could just live at home and enjoy his life the way it was… I eventually blew up at him. I called him every name in the book, broke up with him, and burned the bridge with him for a final time… I felt betrayed. I felt used. I felt like I was some science experiment that he used to figure out that this isn’t wasn’t what he wanted. I felt like my love and my connection to him, could be bought out by his parent's money, and that resulted in me feeling the most worthless I had ever felt from a relationship. But, the worst part of it all? We actually got along and we actually loved each other. We had a connection. And we did have good memories. We had our own language that no one else spoke, and it was special for that moment. And, it was gone.  I learned several things from this. First, fuck religion and fuck homophobia . Second, I’ll never date another closeted guy ever again. This was a one-and-done.  Within the gay community, it seems that everyone has had a horror story of dating someone in the closet, and every single time, they never work out in the end. In fact, I have closed myself off from getting close to friends who are very deep in the closet. I already had my own coming-out story and it was enough for one person, for one lifetime. I can't do it again for myself, let alone for someone else.  This may read as harsh, but I can't allow myself to become sucked-in again. I can't handle having another person show up on my doorstep homeless, because of advice I gave them. I cant re-live my own past truama through somoene else again. Third, when people tell you who they are the first time, believe them. Now, I’m not saying that people don’t deserve second chances. People absolutely deserve grace. However, as I mentioned above, Preston initially told me he enjoyed living off his family’s money. So when I gave him another chance, and he picked his family's money a second time, could I blame him? He already told me this is who he was, so was it really a surprise when he proved it again? Like I said, when people tell you who they are, believe them the first time.  Lastly, I learned that the ability to be in the closet, or, come out of it, is a financial privilege. Preston’s ability to go back into the closet, and it be a personal choice, was a privileged one. Not every single gay person on this earth has the financial ability to fluctuate the way they’re honest about their sexuality, to receive a monetary reward in the end. There is no going back for many gay people. To add, in a generalized sense, I’ve see this a lot of with wealthy gay people. A lot of wealthy gay men have the freedom to live a double life. I know many people would argue that not being able to live your true-self would be miserable, but, it is a choice many wealthy gay people make. I know that when I date again in the future, dating someone who has this type of financial freedom will be a deterrent for me. One thing I keep going back to, in reflection, is that Preston and I had sent each other raccoon photos throughout our relationship. It was one of those silly things, but we’d see videos or photos of them and we’d pretend it was us. One day, while out and about, we were at a shop that had stuffed animals - including raccoons. I bought him one and wrote ‘Cody’ on the tag, and he bought me one and wrote ‘Preston’ on it, and we gave it to each other. If we missed each other while apart, then we’d cuddle with each other's stuffed raccoon to symbolize cuddling with each other. And although we broke up months ago, I still sleep with my Preston Raccoon at night. I still think about him, and I still miss him.  I don’t know when I’ll stop cuddling the raccoon, but for now, I’ll keep sleeping with it every night until the memory of Preston fades away into nothingness, and wait until he becomes a distant memory… Thank you, dear Reader, for joining me this week. Next week is the final installment of ‘Spilling The Tea’. Let just me say, I hope you’re ready because the ending is explosive. I will see you there :) With much love,  ~Cody Wade Aka The Oolong Drunk “Blissfully Tea Drunk…"

Spilling The Tea, Part 6: I Ruined a Friendship Over AI Hello hello! I just have to point out, can you believe that this is post 6 of 8 in the series? I never thought I’d get this far with the project. If I’m being honest, I was quite hesitant about taking on such a large series. I was very hesitant to receive a negative response. However, Dear Reader, your feedback and your companionship have made this all worthwhile. Thank you for making it this far into the home stretch. I’m very grateful for you.  So far, all of the ‘tea spillage’ from this series, has mostly happened in the (relative) distant past. However, what about new tea? What if I told you, that a drama of my own unfolded right in front of me as this series started?  As this series was starting, I somehow ended up right in the middle of cancel culture, and how I ruined a relationship over the use of artificial intelligence.  This is how I ruined a a friendship over AI. First, we need to go back in time — eight and a half years to be exact. When I first started my tea blog, I’ll be candid and say, I was initially enamored by the world of tea. My first introductions to the vast world of tea vendors included many companies that were small in size. Now, they’re some of the anchors within the niche-tea companies. However, there’s a specific company that shall remain nameless for this editorial. This company is ran by one of the most humble and caring people I’ve ever met in the industry— a man named Tom. Tom is one of the warmest, coziest, and friendliest people I have met over my 10-year career in tea, and even now, I still hail him as one of the greatest the industry could ever offer. I don’t know Tom on a very personal level, but Tom has always been a friend to me. He always believed in my blog, and I always believed in him. We always kept things relatively professional, and sometimes, we crossed into being a part of each other’s personal life. We never touched on anything political.  However, after knowing him for 8 and a half years, he was the first to break that boundary. This started when I got a message from Tom, who said that he accidentally sparked a debate on an internet forum called ‘Reddit’.  First, we need to preface that Reddit is a media platform that’s broken down into various other sub-communities called ‘subreddits’ because it’s a sub-community within Reddit. Second, we need to preface the fact that any tea-related social media platform such as the tea subreddit, tea Facebook groups, etc… are overtly negative, snobbish, and just outright toxic. Too many people develop arm-chair opinions of whatever topic is brought to the table, and usually, it’s always draped in a negative connotation. Reddit thrives on negativity.  I went over to the discussion at hand, and Tom was right. Tom was receiving a lot of negative attention over the use of companies using AI art for their packaging. With this, while trying to stay neutral, I replied, “Outrage culture is a large part of Reddit culture.”  With this, Tom replied, “Not just Reddit. Look at the Instagram comments on our post. Those are actual customers of ours. I didn’t want to alienate people.” “ God damnit ”, I thought to myself. “ Why did he drag this over to his social media? ” I went over to his page, and sure enough, he tried to spark the same conversation on his Instagram. He announced he has used several artificial intelligence designs for his packaging, and then did the ONE thing you should never do: Ask the internet for their opinion.  I scrolled through the comments, and sure enough, everyone in the comments was outraged. Comments ranged between outrage on behalf of artists, outrage on behalf of other companies who actually commission human-based art for their packaging, and a few ‘passionate’ comments from customers announcing their boycott of the company.  I went back to my messages and replied to Tom, “I don’t mean to be catty, but where have you been? Ever since people started using artificial intelligence, there’s always been a large pushback. This isn’t unique to our industry.”  Tom replied, “AI is here though. People either need to accept it, and find a way to integrate with it or they’re going to have a hard time. Maybe people don’t wanna hear that. I wanted to have an open discussion about it. I guess that’s what I got.” While frustrated, I replied, “You can’t make people like or accept it. If there’s a large pushback from you using AI designs, then maybe listen to them? If you want to go in your own direction on something, while making customers happy, then there’s bound to be a middle ground somewhere.”  To this, he replied, “I thought a middle-ground would be using AI elements on a larger design of my own making, but the idea of using AI would make me lose customers, is just wild.”  To that, I angrily replied, “If it’s making you lose customers, then you could always go in a different direction. It’s not like this is something you have to do.” I closed my phone, and tried to forget the conversation at hand…  ...Until the next day, when Tom posted to his company’s social media — penning a very lengthy apology for all of the people's feelings he hurt by using artificial intelligence. After reading every sentence in his apology, I became irritated beyond belief. I then read the dozens of comments under the apology post of Tom — praising Tom of his bravery and courage for apologizing for the controversy.  This made me irritated for several reasons.  One, Tom and every other tea company had been using artificial intelligence for their packaging designs for the last several years. Every single tea company does it and has been doing it since AI technology became accessible. Every company. Even the companies who say they don't, actually use it. However, unlike Tom, nearly every other company in the industry did not call attention to the fact they were using AI art. In his post, he never said he was going to stop using AI. So what did I do?  I did the logical thing: Be smart-ass.  Under Tom’s Instagram post, I commented, “This is a great response, but are you still going to be using artificial intelligence for your packaging designs?  A few moments later, Tom replied, “The ones I already designed and printed and sold? I will. But, I am considering using an alternative for people who find my practices unethical.”  With even more irritation, I replied, “So, this apology post didn’t really change the outcome. I’ll always be a fan of your shop, but apologizing without change feels disingenuous. I'm not sure I understand.”  Then, a blogger friend of mine clapped back at me for dismissing Tom’s empathetic attempt at an apology by saying. “What’s unclear? He apologized for hurting people’s feelings. Because Tom has more empathy than most of us do, and more empathy than most of the people attacking him”.  I replied for a final time and clapped back, “What’s unclear is the point of an apology, because an apology indicates the said action will stop. Apologizing, then turning around and continuing to do the same thing, isn’t an apology.” Then, that same blogger friend sent me a message and said, “Dude, what’s your problem? Tom is good people, why are you being an asshole to him?”  However, while getting caught up in being ‘right’, I did something else that I didn’t realize I was actively doing — I was betraying my friendship with Tom. Despite that I didn’t agree with Tom, I was a fan of his. Tom really was (and still is) an incredible person with an incredible heart. He had always been accepting of me and my issues, and when he confided in me, I reacted more than poorly. I enjoyed our friendship, and if I truly felt indifferent to his opinions, I could have had a conversation with him privately instead of calling him out publicly. Or, I didn’t have to say anything at all. I felt like he created an issue out of thin-air and conflated it, but, he didn’t feel that way. That is not his point of view. After realizing I fucked up, I sent him a message saying ‘hello’ — attempting to apologize and waited for a reply.  He left me on ‘read’.  I sent another message, asking if I could have a chat with him directly, and to my surprise, he didn’t read it.  I tried messaging him a third and final time, and yet, he didn’t open my messages. Unfortunately for me, Tom did the very thing I have done many times before (even within this series) — he stopped responding to messages from someone who hurt and betrayed him… In reflection, I realized I learned several things. First and foremost, I learned that sometimes, if someone believes in something different than you, then you don’t always have to call them out on it. We can’t make our friends believe in the same things as we do. Second, opinions really are like anuses — everyone has one. However, it doesn’t mean you need to show it to everyone either. Third, if you get comfortable enough with someone that you’re able to share hot-button opinions with, then be prepared for that person to disagree. Be prepared to view that friendship in a new light, and be prepared for it to alter the way in which you view that particular person…  Most importantly, if you’re willing to share any kind of opinion on the World Wide Web, especially if it’s a hot-button topic, then you have got to be prepared for any kind of backlash. In society, there are certain topics of discussion that always make anyone emotional. Right now these topics include AI art, Biden/Trump, abortion, gay rights, Israel/Palestine, etc… These are topics that will garner emotional reactions regardless of your stance or opinion. Someone will disagree with you, and sometimes, quite passionately. If you decide to share your opinions and stances on these hot-button topics, you simply can’t be surprised when you are met with an emotional reaction. These topics are emotional for a lot of people.  Lastly, you can be ‘right’ when it comes to whichever topic is at hand. Just because you are ‘correct’ in any given viewpoint, it doesn’t give you the right to be so righteous that you inadvertently (and for me, accidentally) end up being an asshole. Besides, just because you think you are ‘correct’, it doesn’t mean you really are (except for me, I’m always right). Growing up, we had a saying that’s along the lines of, “You can be right, and you can also be dead right.”  Was being so ‘correct’ and righteous, really worth losing a friendship over?  No. It wasn’t worth it. Tom is an incredible person, and I wish I could take it back. If Tom is reading, I’d like for him to know that really, I apologize for betraying you.  As you might know, I never shared with you my opinion of tea companies using AI art. I didn’t share my opinion with you, because I’m not an authority of any kind to make such opinions. I just know that I support my artist friends, and I support the people who are passionate about the love of art.  Wanna know something I’m very passionate about, Dear Reader? I’m passionate about the connection you and I have! Truly, your politics do not matter to me, because you and I share a very special type of connection that transcends whatever hot-button is currently consuming the zeitgeist. Ultimately, let’s just agree to disagree, and share a cup of tea with one another. After all, we really are in this together.  Despite all of my shortcomings, I appreciate that you made it back here. I can’t wait to see you next week :) Until then, ~Cody Wade aka The Oolong Drunk “Blissfully Tea Drunk”

Spilling The Tea, Part 5: The Worst Tea Job I've Ever Taken ~ Hello hello!  Thank you for returning to this week’s Spilling The Tea! Last week, we went over the dangers of meeting internet strangers . Well, not just meeting them, but staying at a stranger’s house that you’ve never met before. However, instead of a person, what if you were invited by a company to come out to another city, and let someone else plan your trip?  Yes, this sounds like a recipe for a disastrous time already. If the story has made it to the series here, it’s probably a clear indication that something went wrong. Well, it did.  Today, we'll be going over the worst job I've ever taken in the tea industry. This all started when one morning, I woke up to a message from a colleague, Stacy. To keep a long story short, Stacy was part of a social media platform that worked on a viewership system, and the system also worked on a ranking system. After a while, Stacy ended up winning a contest on the platform and won a placement on a billboard in Chicago. She contacted me and invited me to fly out to Chicago to write an article about her billboard winnings. She then connected me with an editor to a publication (where the article would be posted), and booked airfare.  After organizing logistics, the plan was this: Given I couldn’t take time off work due to short notice, I would fly out of Denver Saturday morning, arrive at the billboard revealing Saturday night, and fly back home to Denver early Sunday morning. Given it was such a short trip, my friend Chris would pick me up from the airport, meet another friend named Mike have tea with Mike at a local tea shop, and would let me stay the night with him. We also planned on getting pizza together and would hang out before flying back home. Sounds like a solid plan, right? Well, this story is on my site, so you know the drill.  First, I got home Friday night and packed my bags. After getting home from work and packing, I didn't really sleep. Stacy booked a 4:55 am flight from Denver to Chicago. Given I live an hour from the airport, that meant waking up after only two hours of sleep. It didn’t entirely matter, because ultimately, I would just sleep on the plane and nap at Chris’s place.  That wasn’t until boarding the plane at 4:00 am, that I received a text from Chris that read, “Hey man, I just got an emergency call from family. I had to leave Chicago this morning, and won’t be around. Good luck!” Fuck . Chris was my ride and Chris was who I was supposed to stay over with.  In a panic, I sent a message to Stacy and explained the situation to her. However, the flight attendants announced that we’d be taking off. I placed my phone on airplane mode and closed my fingers so that I’d receive communication back from Stacy whenever I turned my phone back on. Two hours later, I arrived in Chicago. The entire flight was turbulent, and given so, I didn’t get the chance to sleep on the plane. After arriving at the gate, I quickly turned on my phone and looked for any communication from Stacy.  Then, I got a notification.  I opened my messages to read a reply from Stacy that read, “Hey! Sorry to hear that your plans fell through. We rented an Airbnb and you can stay the night with us. However, we’re driving up from St. Louis and we won’t be at the Airbnb until 5:00 pm. Check-in isn't until 3, but here’s the address...” Ok, crisis averted. Thank God Stacy was understanding. However, that left me with one issue: The Airbnb was twelve miles away, and It was 8:00 am. I was still supposed to meet Mike for tea at 1:00 pm, so what I now had to figure out what to do for the next five hours.  I didn’t have money for Uber, and like before, I wouldn’t have been able to afford this trip on my own.  So next, I looked up a restaurant near the tea shop where I was supposed to meet Mike, decided to eat breakfast, and then meander around that part of town. After a Google search, and after receiving help from another internet friend on how to navigate Chicago public transportation, I was on a subway and on my way to the tea shop. Two hours later, I finally navigated to the tea shop. In my 27 years of life (at that point), I had never used public transportation before. Like, ever. I’ve also never stepped foot in Chicago, so navigating public transportation in a new city on two hours of sleep proved to be, challenging to say the least. After switching lines several times, and after having to travel-back to one of the stops that I had missed, I finally found my way to the tea shop. Now that I was several hours away from meeting Mike, I crossed the street and grabbed breakfast while waiting for our tea date.  After eating breakfast, I sat at the table and immediately felt a wave of exhaustion and fatigue hit me hard harder than the subway I was on. I looked at the clock, and although I was still early, I went over to the tea shop and waited for Mike. While sitting at the tea shop, and waiting for Mike, I closed my eyes and felt myself falling asleep sitting up. “ If I could just get five minutes of sleep, it could help my energy ,” I thought to myself. However, right as I was about to nod off in my seat, I got a message from Mike. “Hey, I’m walking up!” “ Damnit ”, I thought to myself.  I then stood up, looked at the door, and in came Mike.  Seeing Mike for the first time was a drunken-magical haze. Previous to this trip, I had known Mike for over six years of my blogging career. We have had several tea sessions during the pandemic and grew relatively close. He had always been supportive of my tea blog and was someone who I always associated with being a part of the greater tea community. Anytime I talked to Mike, I always felt like I was talking to the entire tea industry at large. Warm, fuzzy, and heart-felt, would be the top three words I’d use to describe Mike. Oh, and paranoia. Mike walked through the door, and when he did, I had two thoughts running through my mind: First, seeing him in person after only virtually knowing him for six years, felt weird. He was in person. I could reach out and touch him! Second, my eyes grew so heavy that I began to feel dizzy and disoriented. Drowsy wouldn’t explain the feeling. More or less, 'drunk' was the feeling that settled in. The more I was awake, the more pain I was in. I can’t entirely remember what was said between Mike and me during this meeting, but, I remember at some point, Mike mentioned that he had come to the tea shop from the University. Somehow or another, I got it in my head that Mike had driven from the university to the tea shop. At some point during our conversion, Mike pulled up a map with me to see where the Airbnb was. Although meeting everyone was still a few hours away, I was anxious about how I was going to make it from this part of the city. It was still over ten miles away. With public transportation, it would take an hour and a half to get there. Given how exhausted I was, it felt impossible.  While having the map pulled up, I heavily hinted to Mike, “It’s too bad that there’s not a way I can get a ride over there. It would be a twenty-minute car ride compared to almost two hours in public transportation.” Mike looked at me, nodded, and proceeded to show me how I’d need to take the subway, the bus, and walk 5 city blocks to get to Stacy’s Airbnb. He gave me great detailed instructions on how to navigate public transportation. We eventually hugged, before he sent me on my way to navigate the city. While he walked off in a different direction, I intently became paranoid.  “ How dare he not offer to drive me, I’ve known him for 6+ years! ” I thought to myself. In an angry drunken sleep-deprived paranoid rage, I quietly followed him.  “ I’ll catch that lair in his car! I bet it’s an SUV, too! ” I said to myself as I proceeded to follow him for four city blocks.  Then, as Mike crossed the street, he started to turn his head around. In a last-minute panic, I dove behind a truck that was parked on the street. I peered through the window of the said truck and watched as he looked around.  “ Shit, he almost caught me! Pull yourself together! ” I said to myself as I turned around, and went back in the direction of Stacy’s airBNB.  An hour and a half later, I got off the subway and walked across the interstate. After trekking into Stab St. and Murder Ave., I was just five blocks away from the Airbnb. While looking at my phone, and while crossing the interstate, a rugged-looking man walked up to me and asked, “Hey sir, do you know where the subway entrance is? It’s just a few blocks up, right?”  I immediately shrieked as every hair stood up on the back of my neck, and shouted, “I’m not from here and I don’t have any money! Don’t shoot me!”  The man gave me a dirty look and flipped me off as I hurried across the interstate.  Thirty minutes after wandering around this random Chicago neighborhood, I arrived at the Airbnb.  I got a shower, found a bed, and laid down. However, right as my head hit the pillow, and right as I closed my eyes, I got a call from Stacy.  “Hey Cody! We’re just a block away from the Airbnb. We’re going to swing by and pick you up, and we’re going straight to the billboard reveal. See you five!”  “ Fuck !!”, I shouted into the airBNB.  I got dressed, went and met Stacy, and rode over to the billboard reveal. Despite being on the verge of a mental collapse, I actually had a good time. Stacy was fun to be around, and all of the people she invited to the reveal party, were very pleasant as well. Everyone was kind, sweet, and above all else — warm and welcoming. After being at the event for several hours, I announced to Stacy that I was exhausted, and simply couldn’t keep going anymore. I needed to go back to the Airbnb and go to sleep. She was understanding and arranged for one of her guests to take me to the Airbnb. After riding back to the Airbnb, I laid down, went to bed, and set my alarm for my early flight back home… Except, an hour later, I was awakened by the sound of loud music. Although I was in a room by myself, the Airbnb was old. The walls were thin, and the loud sounds of people cheering, partying, and blasting music, jolted me awake.  After tossing and turning, and after an hour of trying to get comfortable, I gathered the nerve to go into the living room of the Airbnb and ask for peace.  I walked into the living room, and when I did, Stacy and her party were all drinking/smoking. They looked up at me, and before I could say anything, they announced, “Hey, Cody’s here! Come get a drink with us!”  As I began to fight the tears behind my eyes, I took a deep breath, composed myself, and said, “Hey, it’s Saturday night and I haven’t slept since Thursday night. I’ve been all over Chicago today, and I’m flat out exhausted. Please, can you keep it down just a little? I have to be up in a little bit for my flight home and I’m just flat-out exhausted.” Stacy and everyone nodded, agreed to keep it down, and I went back to my room… Two hours later, I was still wide awake. The party was still going, and the noise didn’t change at all.  Around 2-3 am, guests finally left, and the Airbnb finally became quiet. I was able to close my eyes, and after dozing off, my alarm went off… While feeling drunk, I packed my bags, met Stacy in the kitchen, and she called me an Uber to take me to the airport.  We hugged goodbye, and I was off. While at O’Hare, I waited in line at TSA for almost two hours. And after two hours, and after making it to the front of the line, I unloaded my pockets and noticed something was amiss: My keys (car keys and apartment keys) were missing.  In an instant panic, I dumped the entire contents of my suitcase on the TSA conveyor belt and manically sifted through all of my stuff. Then, suddenly, it dawned on me. I remember placing my keys on the in-table of the room I slept in. I re-sorted my belongings, got out of line at TSA, and went back to the airport lobby. After calling Stacy three times in a row, she didn’t answer. Then, in a last-minute panic, I remembered that one of her guests was on Instagram. I pulled up the app and saw he was online. In my last-ditch effort, I called him through the app.  And on the last ring, he actually answered.  “Oh thank god  you answered! I left my keys in the room I slept in. Can you please drive them up to the airport? I’m begging you , I will be stranded when I arrive back home in Denver.” He then responded, “I’ll gladly drive them up! However, it’ll take me an hour to get them to you.” As I broke out in a cold sweat, I exclaimed, “An hour?! It took the Uber 15 minutes to drive here! My flight leaves in 30!” He then replied, “I know, but I borrowed this car when driving Stacy to Chicago from St. Louis, and I’m not allowed to drive on the interstate. I’ll have to take backroads to get there.”  I hung up the phone, accepted that I was not going to be flying back home on my flight, and waited in line at the ticket counter.  When I got to the front of the ticket counter, I vaguely explained the situation to the airline representative. I explained how I left my keys behind, and how I’d now miss my flight. The woman at the ticket counter searched in her computer, and after a moment, replied, “So Mr. Wade, it looks like for your class of ticket, the next flight we’d be able to get you on would be Wednesday night. You can upgrade your ticket and leave in three hours, but it will cost around $300.00”  My eyes widened. I did not have an extra $300.00, and I could not miss work for the next three days either. I’d be fired. To add, I’d be stranded in Chicago and would have nowhere to stay. Chris flaked las minute, I was still paranoid at Mike, and Stacy was leaving later that evening.  Then, I looked at the woman at the ticket counter and noticed that she had a lesbian pride flag pinned to her work badge.  Then, I did what anyone would do in my position… I lied through my teeth.  I instantly burst into tears and began to hyperventilate. While managing to get out words through my tears, I let out, “I don’t have $300.00. I just came out to my family this weekend, and they kicked me out and made me homeless. They’re Mormon, and I’m on my way to Denver to stay with a friend. I have no money, no home, and nowhere to go! I don’t know what to do. This suitcase is all I own to my name, and I’ve been wandering around the city for two days and haven’t slept since Thursday. I don’t know what I’m going to do!!” While hysterically crying, the woman at the ticket counter called her manager over and typed a few things on her computer. Then, she leaned over the counter, put her hand on my shoulder, and said, “Listen, I’m a lesbian, and as a sister to a newly-out brother, I gotch’u. I talked to my manager and upgraded your ticket, and you’ll be leaving on the next flight to Denver in three hours. Stay strong, you will get through this.” She then leaned over the counter and hugged me.  I took my new tickets, and walked the walk of shame back over to the airport lobby. An hour later, I got my keys back. Two hours after that, I was on the next flight back to Denver… After taking a mental break from this trip, I learned several things. First, I learned that Mike never owned a car. I don’t know how I got it in my mind that he had one... I’ll just chalk it up to the fact I was delusional due to excessive sleep deprivation. I also realized that between Friday morning and Sunday evening, I only got 4 hours of sleep — especially after working all day Friday. Maybe that’s why my mind visited Crazy Town.  I also learned that my friend Chris, is a massive flake. A year later, I booked a flight to fly out to Chicago to visit him, and he canceled on that last-minute, too. Safe to say, I quit being friends with Chris. Last, it took me over a month and a half to submit my article on the billboard party. I had five drafts of the article, but all of them were angry. When I submitted it to the editor of the publication, he expressed disappointment in the fact the article was lifeless and didn’t have emotion. Well, to be fair, ‘bland’ is all that was left after taking out all of the anger from the article.  A few months later, Stacy invited me out to NYC to join her in celebrating another contest she won. She also offered that I could stay with her in their Airbnb in NYC. I quickly declined.  Throughout all of this, I learned three massive valuable life-lesson: First, fuck 5:00 am flights. Second, no greater career opportunity would ever justify you martyring your health and safety, just for the sake of adding it to a resume. In theory, the trip was a good idea. However, the execution was not. It was dangerous for me to wander around a new city while sleep-deprived, especially crossing over an interstate with no real protection.  To add, it didn’t help my career. In fact, it hindered it because the publication didn’t want to work with me again. Lastly, when being hired to write for anyone, especially if travel is involved, I’ll need a contract. I can’t help but wonder that if I had some way of protecting myself on paper, such as hotel/transportation costs covered, I might have had a much better experience, and wouldn’t have been dumped in the middle of Chicago. Although I was supposed to rely on my friend Chris, I didn’t have any safety nets to catch me in case of an emergency either.  However, now that time has passed, I’m now in a place where I am no longer angry at the trip. I can say, I have had many peaceful nights of sleep since then. Thank you, dear reader, for sticking by my side through this wild adventure through Chicago. Although I was alone on this trip then , I don’t feel alone in it now . With this, remember to bring earplugs with you on any trip you take. You’ll never know when you’ll need them. Oh, one last thing. Although it might be obvious after last week’s post, don’t ever travel poor  (for, obvious reasons). Until next week, ~Cody Wade The Oolong Drunk “Blissfully Tea Drunk”

Spilling The Tea Part 2: Killing Your Ex ~ Hello hello! Welcome back, reader! How was your week? Are you managing the summer heat?  Well, as a quick update, things got heated heated for me after last week’s debut . You see, after posting last week’s edition of this eight-part series, I got an angry phone call from two of my friends — the same friends who were also close to last week’s antagonist. They called me and said, “Although what Lilly did to you was friendship-ending, and she was definitley in the wrong — talking about it and posting it to your blog is worse, and mean-spirited.” This friend also said if he read an entire editorial about how he wronged a friend, he would kill himself. He also said that given that I had tried to commit suicide before in my past, I should know how devastating it would make someone feel by talking about them on my blog. “She’s my friend, so in turn, I take offense for her,” is what one of the texts said.  First and foremost, I kicked the lot of them to the curb and removed them from my life. They had no right weaponizing my past suicide attempt against me, for their narcissism. Second, this blog series is not about some holy retribution for getting even with every antagonist in my life. This series is not about outing people for being crummy, and above all else, this series is not about winning any sort of award or endgame. Like I said last week, this series is about healing. This series is about learning. Lastly, this series is about growing from my past mistakes and sharing it with you — the reader. So, if the truth hurts you, then be prepared to get hurt, because I will pledge allegiance to the truth and nothing but . So now, sharpen your knives and polish your swords, and let’s move on to today’s editorial: Killing our exes. First, let’s introduce Jacob.  Jacob and I met on a dating app. Jacob was my height, my age, also lived in the suburbs.  Most importantly, Jacob was another gay boy who moved to Colorado from Missouri -- just like me. He was attractive, nerdy, and conventionally ‘cute as fuck’.   We chatted for several days, and after several days, I asked him out.  He was busy for the next few weeks, so, we made a date for weeks out.  After having a successful date, he invited me over to his place to have a movie night. Except, two weeks after that,because he was busy and had a lot of plans already in the works.  Two weeks later, I came over. We watched a movie, we cuddled, and when the movie ended — I tried to make a move on him. When I did, he quickly stood up and announced that he had a virtual game night planned and I was to go home. He showed me the door before logging onto a gaming PC, and starting his game night. I started to feel wary about him, because, when someone invites you to ‘stay the night over to watch a movie’ indicates you’re staying over. To him, apparently it only meant the duration of Dune.  Until over two weeks later when he came over to my apartment and spent an evening together. The morning after, I asked him to be my boyfriend and he said yes.  After 6 weeks of being patient, finally paid off.  Eventually, I asked if I could start seeing him more frequently. I mean, after all, I had been seeing my new boyfriend for almost two months and only ‘dated’ him three times. But, I made myself patient because patience is a virtue, isn’t it? Well, after a few months of seeing him only on Saturdays, I asked if we could see each other throughout the week, and he happily said yes. Another few months went by, and I got the news that I was moving twenty miles south — which would put me close to his part of town. Our forty-five-minute drive to see each other, now turned into a twenty-minute drive to see each other. There for a while, things were going smoothly. Since things were going smoothly, I started asking him about meeting his family and meeting his friends. He agreed for me to meet his family, and eventually, we flew to Missouri twice together so I could meet his parents. However, when we got back home, I started asking if I could meet his friends, and go to some of his favorite hangout spots in the city — including his favorite bar & restaurants. Every time, he’d answer, “It’s hard to see my friends and to go to my favorite places because it’s in the city. I don’t wanna show you my favorite bar because I live too far from it, and can’t drink if we go...”  Which, was an odd excuse because these were friends and these were places he frequented on a very regular basis. He’d meet his friends in the city, attend gay-centric events, and go to gay-friendly places regularly. If anything, I just wanted to be a part of his everyday life here. He did invite me and flew me out to meet his parents, so why couldn’t I be a part of his social life?  Then, suddenly, the first crack that inevitably shattered our relationship appeared out of nowhere: He announced that his best friend from college would be moving to Colorado. He announced that he wanted to move out of the suburbs, and into downtown, with his best friend as his roommate. He also announced that his friends would be visiting beforehand to apartment look before moving down.  When Jacob’s friends arrived, he took them out to the city. He showed them some of his favored places in the city, showed them some of his favorite restaurants, and took them to his favorite gay-friendly bar. He also announced that he wanted a weekend with his friends, and I could meet them on their last day in Colorado because he wanted ‘me time’ with his friends.  After six months of dating him, I did the very classy thing of ‘losing my shit’.  We had a fight. I confronted him about his weird avoidant-attachment style and we argued about how I was being compartmentalized in his life. After a bit of back and forth, he agreed to let me join them for the rest of their outings. To add, wanna know the best compromise of all? We started building resentment towards each other.  After his friends left, I asked him to show me some of the places that he showed them. When I did, I was met with resistance. I got told no and was told the same excuses I had been told before. A month later, we had another argument over it, and despite it, he said if I wanted to partake in his social life, I’d just have to wait until he moved into the city. If I'd be patient and waited until he moved into the city, then I would be able to go on dates with him to some of his favorite places — including the places he showed his friends.  After his friends left, I helped him find an apartment above one of my favorite milk tea shops in the city, helped him pack, and helped him move. The week of the move, he had a mental health crisis. He mentally slipped into a panic due to moving because before that point, his parents funded and moved him — for him. His parents traveled to help him get settled. Despite being 27 years old, this was the very first time he was doing something like this on his own. No matter how much I tried to convince him I was there for him, he closed up.  I just told myself to be patient, because patience is a virtue, right? Well, the weekend he moved, he screamed at me. He shouted at me for packing wrong. And he shouted at me for cleaning things wrong…  I bit my tongue and gave him more patience. I tried to look past his mental health crisis, and helped him until his move was over… Once his move ended, I asked him about going out since he was now in the city once and for all. For four more weeks, he kept saying “I need to unpack, and I need to settle and explore on my own.”  Then, the final weekend arrived when his new roommate would be moving down from South Carolina to move in with him. He announced that his best friend was bringing a few people with him to help move, and Jacob wanted to show them the gay-friendly bar that he frequented while they were all over. I snapped.  I told him that I didn’t want to be with him anymore. We got into an argument, and after getting into a heated argument, he grabbed my arms, pushed me, and slammed me against the wall. I hit my head on the wall, reached my leg up, and kicked him off. I packed my backpack, walked out of his apartment, and walked out of his life.    For over a week, I called in sick to work and hid out in my apartment. At the time, I was ashamed that I’d ever be in a position where a partner would hurt me. I was embarrassed that I put my trust in him. Lastly, I was ashamed of the hand-print marks that were left on my wrists, and didn’t want anyone to see them… However, after several months of hiding out in my apartment, I started going out again. I started exercising regularly again and tried to build my confidence.  Expert, for one weekend, a few friends and I went out to Downtown Denver to celebrate my birthday. I parked downtown, waited at a crosswalk, and looked across the street to see Jacob standing waiting at the crosswalk with his new roommate.  I quickly ran across the street and hid in the shuffle of traffic and pedestrians, before he could see me.  A few months later, I went to Downtown Denver to meet friends for tea. Across the street, I saw Jacob.  After that, I quit visiting the city for a bit. It wouldn’t be until 8 months later, that a few friends flew into Denver to spend an extended weekend with me. Part of our trip was to visit downtown Denver.  When visiting Downtown Denver, we all went to my favorite milk tea shop together. When going, we walked up and saw Jacob. Jacob looked up at me and made eye contact with me. While making eye contact, I stopped in place, turned around, and walked away from the area.  I actually had a panic attack. While my friends comforted me, they reminded me that Jacob was just Jacob. He is not any more of a human than I was.  So, why was I giving the memory of him this much power?  First and foremost, seeing your ex in public is never fun. Nobody, gay or straight, doesn’t necessarily enjoy seeing their ex anywhere after the relationship fails. Second, I also learned that I can’t stop living my life in fear due to someone else living their life, as well. Just because our relationship failed, doesn’t mean my enjoyment out of Denver had to fail as well. After my friends confronted me, and after they left the city, I started re-analyzing my relationship with Jacob. In reflection, I realized that Jacob was not in the right place to be dating someone. Jacob didn’t know he was doing this, but he was only looking for a connection to help hold him over until he relocated to Downtown Denver. I mean, isn’t it obvious? When someone is moving to a new city with their best friend, and ready to go out and party, they are not necessarily in the right frame of mind to seriously date.  In self-reflection, I also learned that anytime our relationship advanced forward, it was because I initiated it. Any connection and any romance was initiated, because I pursued him.  I also remember about how I almost broke up with him, over his trip to South Dakota. He went to a family funeral for over two weeks in South Dakota, and his birthday fell on one of the days of his trip. When I asked to call him on his birthday, and he wouldn’t let me call him because, according to him, “This trip is not about my birthday, it’s about my family.” Funny enough, later that night, his mom posted photos on Social Media about how the entire family of 30 people,  threw a surprise birthday party for Jacob…  While remembering the South Dakota incident, I learned that patience is not always a virtue. The act of patience quits being a virtue when you allow someone to take advantage of it. I learned that it is completely okay to pursue someone in a relationship, however, they need to be pursuing you back as well. It takes two people to carry the weight of a relationship. No amount of patience and no amount of grace will ever make the other person want to ‘want’ you back. Lastly, I learned that anytime I meet anyone in dating with an avoidant attachment style, I am running fast in the other direction. Although it is healthy for some people, it is actualy toxic for me.   However, I was still left with one issue: How do I go out in public and not be affected by seeing Jacob? Well, simply, I had to kill him. Not literally, of course. But, emotionally? I had to make him dead to me. Although the relationship was 8 months behind me, I was still keeping it alive. I was keeping it alive because, despite the bad times, we actually had a lot of good times.We had love, romance, and a lot of special memories that were shared between us. It’s only human to want to remember the good times, right? Well, of course it is.  However, humans are not black-and-white. You can’t always take the good out of one thing, and ignore the bad. Jacob was a complex human being, and as much as I wanted there to remember only good times, the bad times still happened. He still put his hands on me. He still hurt me.  So I took all of the good times, and I took the bad times, and let those feelings go. I killed those negative feelings by going to the gym. I killed those feelings by going to dinner by myself. And I killed more of those feelings by taking care of myself. Eventually, I found my own self-worth, and did it until he was eventually dead to me. Loving myself, and taking care of myself, is how I managed to move on from the hole he left in my heart and move on. So, why am I bringing this up now?  I’ve been going to the same gay bar that he had frequented. You know, the same one that he enjoyed but refused to take me to? For the past few months, I had been going there on a semi-regular basis to watch drag shows. Last week, I walked up to the bar and ordered a drink. When I did, I noticed someone walking up to the bar beside me in my peripheral vision. I looked over, and it was Jacob. He was standing at the bar, trying to ignore that I looked at him. He glanced over at me and smiled. I glanced over at him, and to my own surprise even, I smiled back.  I paid the bartender, took my drink, and walked back into the bar.  I walked away, and for the first time since our break-up, I can confidently say, this was the very first time that I felt nothing…. Thank you reader for going down this path with me. I’m really grateful that you came back after last week’s post, and can’t wait to chat with you again next week. Until then, take care of yourself. Most importantly, don’t forget to do something this week that will show yourself, that you love yourself. Best wishes, ~Cody Aka The Oolong Drunk “Blissfully Tea Drunk”

Spilling The Tea,Part 4: The Dangers of Meeting Internet Strangers at the Cat Pee Manor ~ Hello hello! Welcome back to this week’s installment of ‘Spilling The Tea’. First, I want to say thank you, dear reader, for all of the warm and receptive feedback you’ve given me after last week’s installment. I was surprised that so many of you had experienced a long-term friendship go south. Although it was saddening to hear that it was a shared experience with so many of you, I’m fortunate that I’m not alone in this aspect. However, while we are still fresh on last week’s topic of internet friends , I have to ask: Have you ever met any of your virtual friends in person? Were they what you expected? Well, what if I told you that meeting one of your virtual friendships would turn into an absolute nightmare, and make you end up in a cat-pee manor? Before we dive into today’s zaniness, let’s first introduce Mary.  Mary and I had met virtually through social media. Mary lived in Portland, and I lived in Colorado. Over the course of a year, we’d share virtual tea sessions, gush over different tea and teaware websites, and simply enjoy each other's company. Mary and I had a lot of shared experiences such as being divorced from our family, having previous toxic relationships, and also, feeling lonely in life post-covid. Mary and I became really close, and there for a while, she felt like family. Eventually, after one of our conversations about loneliness, she sent me a messaged and made me one incredible offer: “I know your finances are tight, so how about I buy a plane ticket for you to come out to Oregon? You can see your friends, and you can all come here and stay with me.” With what felt like winning Willy Wonka’s Golden Ticket, I accepted her offer. It had been a few months since seeing friends, and given how low my mental state had been at that point, Mary offered me something that I couldn’t give myself: She gave me an escape. Although temporary, I was able to take a break from my then mental-health crisis.  So, our game plan was this: I fly into Southern Oregon to stay the night with my best friend and his wife, Luke, and MacKenna. The next day, we were to drive up to Portland, meet for a late breakfast, have a tea meet-up at a local tea shop, and tea-bar hop the rest of the evening. I would then fly home from Portland the next morning. Except, that’s not entirely what happened.  The day of the trip rolled around, and I flew out to Southern Oregon. I met up with Luke and MacKenna, and I stayed the night with them. Although I could go into more detail about my visit with them, it wouldn’t add to today’s story. However, I will say at at the very least, they were undeserving casualties of the upcoming nightmare, too. The next morning, we woke up and headed up to Portland. It was four hours away according to the GPS, and once we were to arrive, we’d stop and have breakfast in the city with Mary and a few other tea friends. However, once we were an hour from Mary’s house, I texted her and gave her an updated ETA. Then, I was unexpectedly met with a distressing text from Mary that read, “Hey, my car won’t start and if we’re all going to breakfast, I can’t take all of us. Can we all pile into Luke and MacKenna’s car and they drive all of us around?” I looked over at Luke, who was driving, and contemplated asking him — but I couldn’t. Luke and MacKenna had driven me 4 hours north to Portland, and although they were a part of the original plan, they were still driving me to Portland as a favor. I couldn’t just ask them to drive everyone around after, especially people they’ve never met before. I quickly came up with a lie and said, “They don’t have room in their car. However, doesn’t your partner have a car? We can all just meet for food and tea, and drive separately. Let’s just stick to the original plan and meet at the restaurant.”  I didn’t hear back from Mary, so we continued as normal.  However, an hour later, we pulled up to the diner got on the waitlist for a table for 6 (which would include Mary), and called to let her know that we had arrived. To make things better, it was only a few blocks from Mary’s house.  However, Mary blew up.  “You need to come straight here, now ! My car’s battery is broken, and we were supposed to all get food together, and everything is falling apart! You need to stop what you’re doing because you’re stressing me out, so just get here now !”  She was shouting, and I was stunned.  Over the year of knowing her, she had never raised her voice at me. I also didn’t understand why she couldn’t just meet us, since we were two blocks from her house. Now that I got Luke, MacKenna, and myself out here, I started to panic. I didn’t want Luke or MacKenna to know there were issues.  But, with a cool head, I replied, “Hey, we’ll head over. We just need food, we’ve been driving for four hours, and we need to eat before anything else.”  An hour or so later, we ate breakfast and nervously headed a block over to Mary’s house, where I met her for the very first time. While apprehensive, we walked up to the door and rang the doorbell.  After a few moments of waiting, and after anxiety set in, the door opened.  It was Mary.  Except, Mary was wearing sunshades and over-the-ear headphones. She gave us a side hug and went back inside.  While standing in the doorway, we were greeted by her partner who stood up and said, “Hey, sorry about the issues earlier. My car works, so I don’t know why she got upset over not being able to take her car. We can drive separately to anywhere in the city. Except, Mary is over-stimulated and has to take a few pills to calm down. She’ll be wearing headphones and sunglasses wherever we go today.” Then, Mary came back out and took us further into their house. Immediately while walking in, the strong smell of ammonia and pee overwhelmed us and hit us in the face like a brick wall. It was so strong, that my nose and eyes began to water as my eyes turned bright pink. My knees buckled, and while trying to find my own placement within my own body, I slowly proceeded forward.  When talking further into the house, we noticed three cats and a dog on the couch, and another cat in the window. When looking over at their fireplace, they had a massive 32-gallon storage bucket filled with cat litter.  “ Oh my god, that’s the litter box ,” I thought to myself.  While Mary gave us a tour of the house, my lungs locked up and I physically couldn’t breathe. I grabbed my inhaler, took a deep inhale, and tried to keep my composure.  The deeper we went into the house, the stronger the smell of ammonia became. My nose became numb as my breathing became more and more difficult.  Then, Mary guided us to the basement where Luke, MacKenna, and I would be staying.   While walking down into the basement, I noticed that the smell of pet urine slowly dissipated, except, the basement was cold. Granted, it was in early winter, but the basement was just an empty room of concrete where you could see your own breath. We sat our bags down by a mat and looked around the room. I asked, “Just wondering Mary, how do we turn on the heat down here?” Mary smiled and said, “Well, we don’t have heat down here. If you get cold, we can grab another blanket from upstairs. If that’s not enough, we can turn on the computers that my husband uses to mine Bitcoin. They will eventually heat up the room”. She pointed to the other side of the room which had a shelf with various computers — all covered in dust.  I gritted my teeth, smiled, and told Mary that we’d all get settled and would come up when we were ready to leave.  Mary went upstairs, and I fell apart on Luke and MacKenna.  While wheezing from my asthma attack, I panicked while saying, “Bitcoin is our goddamn heat source?! I can’t cover up in one of her  blankets! There’s probably cat pee in that, too !!” MacKenna then said, “Your face turned ghost-white and your eyes turned pink the minute we walked in the house. I like pets, and I’ll even admit it’s bad in here.”  However, while trying to calm down, we all started pulling up hotel rooms for the area. Unfortunately, finding a hotel last minute in downtown proved to be too expensive. We didn’t budget for a hotel because we were supposed to stay with Mary. As for myself, if I knew I was going to need a hotel, I wouldn’t have agreed to go on this trip to begin with. I couldn’t afford it.  After failing to find a last-minute hotel, we came up with a new game plan: For all of the tea people we were going to meet in Portland, quietly explain the situation to all of them and hope that one of them would take petty on us let us stay the night with them.  I mean, it shouldn’t be too awkward, right? Just, you know, ask random strangers if three people can crash with them overnight. That’s totally normal, right?  Once we walked upstairs, we made a plan to go to a tea shop downtown and all took separate cars to our meet-up. For the rest of the day, we met up with a larger group of tea people who all came out to have tea with us. I had met various tea friends that I had known virtually for years and met them for the very first time, and it was a great experience. However, none of us could break away with anyone within the group to ask to stay with them, because Mary was always within earshot. Although she wore sunglasses and earphones everywhere, she was still aware of everything going on. As we hopped around Portland and visited various tea spots as a group, the nagging question lingered in the back of my mind: What the hell are we going to do?  Later that night, the group of us found ourselves having dinner together. The restaurant was only a block from Mary’s house, and although it was getting late, we still had no idea how to fix the issue at hand.  At the very last minute, Mary got up from the dinner table and announced that she and her husband would be returning back to the house early, and we could just meet them back there when we finished dinner.  Bingo , there’s my window of opportunity.  Once Mary and her husband left, I started asking everyone in the group, one by one, if we could stay with them.  However, one by one, others from the group gathered around to listen to the drama at hand. Eventually, the entire group surrounded us, and everyone keyed in to what was happening. The idea of keeping this issue discrete didn’t really stay discrete.  After a bit of back and forth, a fellow tea blogger announced that Luke, MacKenna, and I, could collect our things and sleep at his house. With relief, we thanked him. Our search for a place to stay was finally over.  Except, we now had to go to Mary’s house and announce to her that we would not be staying with her.  Given how she exploded when we couldn’t all take the same car to the same place, and how she bailed on food with us earlier, I was worried about how she’d react. She was now a loose cannon, after all.  That evening, Luke, MacKenna, and I went back to Mary’s house. When we walked through the door again, the smell of cat urine hit me in the face again as my lungs locked back up. Just like last time, my nose began to water as my eyes turned blot-shot red.  I held my breath, went down to the basement to grab my belongings, and came back upstairs. I sat by Mary on her couch (well, the edge of her couch — I was afraid to sit on it), looked at her right in the eye, and said, “Hey, I can’t stay here tonight. The pets… It’s all too much and my asthma can’t handle it. It’s not personal, and I’m grateful that you flew me out here. I just can’t sleep here.” Luke and MacKenna held their breath while waiting for Mary to respond. With a blank stare, she looked at me right in the eye.  After a moment of silence, and after my heart rate spiked, she finally replied, “I understand.” MacKenna, Luke, and I all sighed with relief, grabbed our belongings, and left for our new last-minute rescueBNB… Now when looking back, I realized that I had learned a few valuable life lessons from this. First, just because you’re good friends with someone online, doesn’t mean that the friendships will translate well to being friends in person. We may know certain people, but we don’t really know how they live. We don’t know how clean they are. And lastly, we don’t know how friends are going to react to certain social situations when certain awkward situations pop up. I knew Mary, and we had an incredible online friendship, but I didn’t really know her.  Second, when flying out of town and staying with a friend, budget enough money for backup that you can afford to stay in a hotel in case of any last-minute emergencies. This might already be a given, but you never know what predicament you might find yourself in until you are right in the middle of it. Like myself, I never expected to be in the middle of a cat pee-house. Now, I can look back at this memory with Luke and MacKenna, and we’ll laugh about the time we all almost got stuck at the cat-pee motel. As for my relationship with Mary? Unfortunately, our friendship didn’t last very long. Months after the visit, Mary sent several messages accusing me of faking my asthma to get out of spending time with her. After that accusation, I decided to not fight with Mary and decided to not argue with her. She had problems of her own, however, I didn’t have the energy to respond to her accusations about faking my asthma. I eventually just disappeared from her life and disappeared until she and I became strangers again.  The last time I heard, she moved into another house, as their old house had to be condemned and leveled. I think apartments were going to be built over it. I don’t know. I always wondered how Mary and her husband could afford to buy a house because they both didn’t work.  Either way, you have to do what’s best for your own health. You have to take care of yourself (and your asthma), and although it might create awkwardness between you and your friends, you’re the one who has to live inside of your own body, after all. The right friends will be understanding.  Thank you, reader, for being understanding! Although I’m not going to awkwardly ask if I could crash at your house last minute to run away from an ammonia-stained condemned house, just know that anytime I’m in your city, I’ll happily do whatever I can to sit and share tea with you. We can create our own memories, and if we are caught in an awkward situation, then let's promise that we’ll laugh about it later. Until next week, ~ Cody Wade Aka The Oolong Drunk “Blissfully Tea Drunk”

Spilling The Tea, Part 3: Destroying my Longest Friendship — Hello hello! I’m very happy to see you here this week. After the first two installment of ‘Spilling The Tea’, I received a large amount of out-pouring support from everyone who related to the stories. I read every single message with a smile, and really, all of your messages covered me like a warm blanket. Hopefully, sharing these things with you has been a warm blanket to you, as well. Dear reader, you’re almost like a friend of mine. Hell, you are a friend of mine! However, if we’re friends, then I need to start being more honest with you: I haven’t always been the protagonist in every one of my stories. What if I told you that sometimes, I’m not always the good guy, and sometimes, things fall into a grey area? One of my closest friends, Katie, used to read my blog. Katie and I shared an 8+ year friendship that started before my tea blog took off. This friendship also started before her career took off, too. We initially met on an online chatroom dedicated to tea. While in this online chatroom, the topic of music came up. During this conversation, we talked about being mutual fans of the same band. With this conversation, we learned that we had more in common with each other than once initially thought. Shortly thereafter, we became virtual besties. You know the moment in each and every one of your friendships, when you just knew that your friendship was cosmic? Like, an astral event that only the Gods could create, for your paths to align at just the right moment? This event happened when I opened my private chat with Kaite and saw a distressing message from her. “I just moved across a brand new city, and I’m locked outside of my new apartment. My landlord isn’t answering. What should I do?” Katie lived in another country than me, and there was nothing I could do, except, provide an ear. We lived thousands of miles away from each other, and yet, just being there for Katie was enough to help her. Katie was in a transition of her own - she was moving across the country to start her new professional caree. As for myself, I was in a transition of my own — I had been recovering from homelessness, as a result of coming out of the closet as gay. Although we were facing very different life events, it was sort of the same, right? We were both relocating to a new place, both starting new chapters in our lives, and we had the support of each other. Katie and I would message each other on and off and sometimes go periods without hearing from each other. We would like each other's photos on social media, throw ideas back and forth to each other, and support each other’s journeys. However, all of this changed when the 2020 global COVID-19 pandemic hit. The world shut down. All tea spaces shut down. Everyone went inside and locked the doors as the world went dark… Katie and I were affected by the pandemic, however, things didn’t really change. Katie and I had made most of our friendships through virtual spaces, and although the outside world around us was having a crisis, Katie and I were not. While everyone adjusted to doing everything virtually, Katie and I were already there. Our friendship blossomed as we had regular virtual tea sessions with each other, and over the next two years, we had virtual tea parties with each other, as well as with other tea bloggers. Katie was moving up in the company she had worked at, and I had moved from Missouri to Colorado. Despite the changing atmospheres of the worlds around us, we still had each other. In fact, Katie and I joined a semi-regular virtual D&D game that my ex had hosted for us (yes, the same ex from last week’s story). We had mastered the perfect virtual online friendship. Until we didn’t. Like they say, not everything gold can stay. Last year, I started to mentally down-spiral. I had referenced this downward spiral on my blog several times in the past year (including my 8th blog anniversary post and my pride-essay post). Without going into the details of it (and without turning this week’s post into a full-length novel), I’ll give you a quick break-down: I lost several important friendships, as well as an 8-month-long planned partnership with another tea company, all within the same 2 weeks. This, when added to being socially secluded, resulted in me being suicidally isolated. Ok, reader, we should now be on the same page! While in this social isolation, I spent upward of five months in a row without having a hug from anyone. Without meeting any friends in person. And worse of all, Katie dropping off my radar… I sent a message to Katie. 1 message turned into 2. 2 messages turned into 2-3 weeks of silence. I would see ‘read’ on my messages from her and started to get concerned. Katie was still posting content to her social media on an everyday basis, and still liking other friend’s posts. So, why was I receiving the silent treatment? It’s safe to say, I got paranoid. At this point and time, I had my only in-person friendships fall apart and had the rest of my virtual friendships fall apart as well. I thought I was safe with Katie, so I never thought to question it. She had always been there, right? Until staring at the ‘read’ message in our chat. It was like a taunt; a reminder that the final person in my life was falling out of it. A reminder that I had failed at this relationship. One night, as my suicidal isolation hit its peak, I climbed to the rooftop of my apartment’s parking garage, looked over, and contemplated jumping. While doing so, I received a concerned message and eventually, a phone call from one of Katie’s best friends. She talked me out of my panic and talked me into seeking help. And, that’s what I did. I went into therapy and started working on my issues. Except, I still couldn’t manage being ghosted by Katie. So, what did I do? I ended up confronting Katie. In my confrontation, I asked her why she disappeared. I asked her point-blank what the problem was, and where all of this was coming from. I expected to be left on read, and to my surprise, she replied. She explained that her pet had died, and in the middle of it, she got COVID-19 and was sick for one of those weeks. She had fallen into a mental health episode herself. When asking her why she didn’t say anything, and why she kept posting to social media on a regular basis, she said, “It was healthy for my mental health to keep as much normalcy as possible.” I couldn’t understand. I wanted to understand, but I couldn’t. As much as I wanted to argue and stand up for myself for feeling hurt, I decided to ignore it. In lieu of ignoring it and trying to move on, I got even more paranoid. After the coming weeks, I started questioning why Katie’s best friend was the one to help me and not Katie. I knew Katie was going through her own issues, but, she hasn’t been avoidant before, so why was it an issue now? However, one day, I sent her another message, and yet again, was left on read. After seeing that she had still been posting on a regular basis, and continuing to see her like and comment on other people’s content, I reached my breaking point with this relationship. I went to her profile, went to settings, and blocked her. I did this for several reasons. First, it hurt to see her active on social media while leaving me on read. I couldn’t connect her temporary break from our friendship, with her being active on social media. I couldn’t make it, make sense to me. I couldn’t handle seeing her active on social media, and needed to find a way to avoid seeing her comments and likes on other people’s posts. Second, if she was allowed to make herself distant in the name of mental health recovery, then why couldn’t I? I had the urge to want to fight and argue with her, and at the end of the day, I needed a way to protect myself from launching another argument with her. Except, in blocking her, I hurt her. In hurting her, our 8-year friendship was over…. I spent several months in therapy working on my abandonment issues and working on my suicidal ideation. In fact, while in therapy, I spent several sessions talking about Katie, and how her avoidant attachment style ended up hurting me. I eventually got to a spot where I unblocked Katie, messaged her, and had a conversation with her. During this conversation, we talked about our feelings, tried to be sensitive while doing so, and eventually found a middle ground. Over the course of another month or so, we ended up getting into another argument. She confronted me, about how I can’t make people interact with me in the way that I want. I can’t control other’s actions. She stated that trying to force friendships and not giving friends the space they need, can further push them away. I argued that clear communication can avoid issues of feeling ignored, and can create a better understanding between two people. That, closing up on people and shutting them out can create a much larger issue. She then replied, “Isn’t that what you did to me when you blocked me?” I stared at my phone and sank into that message. I realized two things with this interaction: First, we now had resentment against each other. Second, we both felt hurt and we were going in circles. The more we argued, the more awe would be reminded of that resentment. With being reminded of this resentment, my heart re-broke and re-shattered. This issue was now out of my control, and in that moment, I felt like I had lost something I’d never get back. The bad blood was already there. I started at my phone all night, and after contemplating what to do next, I decided to send the final blow — the final blow that would allow me to fully mourn and move on from this cosmic connection: I went to her profile, went to settings, and blocked her for the final time… While in reflection, and while in therapy, I learned several things: First, I learned that all friendships come in many different shapes and sizes. There are some friends you go out with on a weekly basis, there are some friends you meet on a semi-monthly basis, and also, there are some friendships where you can go without talking for months and pick everything back up when you see them again — regardless of how much time has passed. However, what do you do when your entire relationship is based on being 100% virtual? Well, I learned that some things are the same, and some things are very different. When connecting with people, you don’t truly get a full sense of who they are like you would in person. You don’t see all of their mannerisms, or their micro-gestures, and do not feel the energy from someone when they’re exclusively online. There will always be a certain level of context missing. However, being able to connect, make time for one another, and communicate with one another is all the same. Wanna have a two-hour tea date? It doesn’t entirely matter if it is in person or virtual — it’s the same two hours regardless. Second, I learned that not every friendship needs a goodbye. Not every cosmic relationship needs to collide with a rogue comet. I sometimes think about how Katie needed grace, and giving her grace would have been giving her time off from responding to her inbox. Giving Katie grace would have been acknowledging that her mental health was specific to her, and although I might not have understood it, I could have accepted it. However, I was in a period of my life where being socially isolated was ruining my mental health, and my needs collided her emotional needs. When the needs of two people collide, then it’s no one’s fault. I mean, after all, people are destined to change after 8 years, right? However, I’m not built that way. I wish I could be the person who would be okay with being ghosted by a friend, I wish I was the person who could accept avoidant-attachment styles, and keep the door open for the said person whenever they’re ready to come back. I wish I wouldn’t have to feel lonely when I feel hurt by a friend, and above all else, I wish I was the kind of person who still got to have a friendship with Katie. But, I’m not. Regardless of what I wish, I know that within myself, I’ll never be okay to being ghosted by people who are close to me. I’ll never be okay with being cut out of a friend's life, and to add, I’ll never be okay with feeling abandoned when my friends make clear they do not need me. Maybe these are things I need to continue working on. Maybe I have too many scars caused by people dropping out of my life overnight, that I can manage it but won’t be able to 100% fix it. Maybe I was self-destructive. But, maybe that self-distruction was rooted in wanting to avoid getting hurt again. But, I got hurt regardless. So what is it all for…. Dear reader, thank you for reaching the end of this week’s Spilling The Tea. Although we all have failed friendships in our past, it doesn’t mean we don’t deserve another chance to have that cosmic spark. Maybe that cosmic connection I once had with Katie is gone forever. However, what you and I have is quite special, isn’t it? What if the conection you and I have, is a cosmic connection in itself? The universe brought us together for this moment -- for you and me to connect through this post. Until I see you next week, try to remember that if you lose an astronomical love and connection, it doesn’t mean we can’t ever find that kind of otherworldly love again… With all the love and respect in this universe, ~Cody Aka The Oolong Drink “Blissfully Tea Drunk"

Spilling The Tea: Cutting Toxic People Out of Our Lives (Post 1) ~ Hello hello! Welcome to a new series called ‘Spilling The Tea’. In this series, I’ll be giving ‘the tea’ about various life circumstances,and fleshing out the best possible route to resolving various dilemmas that we all might face at some point or anothe. Think of this as agossip/advice fusion that Carrie Bradshaw would do in Sex in the City — except, more gay, more ,melodramatic, and more personable (and not all about dating). For me, I sometimes experience a lot of zany and outlandish situations where I don’t necessarily receive any sort of closure or validation. With this series, I'll give myself the closure I need by writing these stories. As I find my own closure, maybe it can help you, the reader, find some sort of closure with a similar shared life experience as well. To launch the very first ‘Spilling The Tea’ series, We’ll be going over something that has become more prevalent in today’s society: Cutting toxic people out of our lives. I did this recently. A few weeks ago, I said goodbye to a near two-year friendship. This friendship started two years ago when someone local to my area reached out to me on Instagram. They followed me, and I followed them back. Shortly thereafter, we started talking and became social media friends. Her name was Lilly (well, for the sake of this story, that’ll be her name), and Lilly was very supportive of my blog and my tea journey. However, last year, we started entertaining the idea of going out tougher. We’d make plans to meet for tea, make plans to meet up to go out to the club, etc. Every time, she’d cancel. Some of the times, she’d cancel the day of. Two of the times, I had pulled up to the tea shop when she canceled. One of the times, I went to the tea shop, waited for an hour, and didn’t hear back from her until that night/the next day. I was becoming weary of this friendship. Though, after some time had passed, Lilly and I talked again and made plans to go to a nightclub together. A week later, that same day, she canceled. When I asked her when she’d be free next, she said, “Oh, I’m leaving for Nevada for the summer, I won't be back until September/October (4-5 months later). I went to her profile, went to block her, and hovered my finger over the block button. Before blocking her, I remember thinking about how I didn’t have any friends in Colorado yet. I also remember how I wasn’t in a position to cut off one of the only connections I had here — despite it being a shit one. So, I went to her profile and muted her profile instead (so, I wouldn’t be able to see her posts on my feed) and moved on. Months would pass, and she’d react to my stories or comment on my posts, and I wouldn’t respond. I wouldn’t reply. I had just moved on. Eight months had passed (now the spring of this year) and I got a new message from Lilly. She said that she and her boyfriend had rented an Airbnb near the tea shop I frequented (the same tea shop I had been stood up by her previously), and insisted that we finally meet for the very first time. After letting go of some of the flakiness of the past, I decided to give it a shot. I had nothing to lose anyway, right? So, on the day of, I arrived and got a table for us. Half an hour later, and right when I was packing up to leave, I looked up and Lilly was walking in. She finally arrived. Hot damn. She was a real person, and not just a winter flake that fell from the sky after all. Long story short, we had a great time. We hung out for several hours, and after, made plans to hang out again. To my surprise, we actually hung out again. We got breakfast, went shopping, and created a new memory. Another time after, Lilly brought one of her best friends along, and we all three hung out. And the time after that, she brought another few friends. Before I knew it, I had a small group of friends I could call on, hang out with, and socialize with. A few months later, Lilly announced that her job was relocating her for the summer, and she’d be leaving again. She worked for a branch of the government. Essentially, she would take contracts, but, would have to temporarily move across the state/country to fulfill these contracts. This actually explained why she would disappear for months at a time, but despite so, she had made promises to us in the group that she’d come back and visit. She made promises that we’d all get to see her. Since she had been consistent in our friendship up to that point, I had no reason to doubt her. Except, some of her friends and I had made plans to drive over to her new temporary home, and visit her for a very specific weekend. We planned on going on the first weekend of June because the first weekend of June is the anniversary of my dad’s passing. This time of year is always hard on me, and for over the past decade, I have always spent this day alone. Or, I’d have no one to call, talk to, or spend time with, on this day. My dad died tragically, and every year on this day, it comes back up again and I'm reminded how much I miss him. Every year on this particular day, I struggle. However, I was now going to take a mini road trip with Lilly's friend instead of spending it alone. I'd be surrounded by good company, and I wouldn't be left to wallow in it. For the first time in over a decade, I wouldn’t be spending this day alone. I took two days off work for this trip, and a plan was set in motion. Except, it didn’t happen. The week of, on Wednesday, Lilly announced that she’d be driving down to the city instead. So, her friends and I made plans to hang out on Saturday and do something as a group instead. We'd have a game night. With a new plan in motion, I asked her on Thursday if she and I could go to the lake together on the night of my dad’s passing (Sunday night). She said she’d love to and would message me later to verify the time and place. I texted her Friday to verify plans, and she said she was busy at work and would message me later. Saturday arrived, and I still didn't hear from her. Saturday night arrived, and I went to our friend’s house for game night. I asked if they heard from Lilly, and they said she canceled on them and would be coming Sunday instead. Sunday arrived, and I still hadn’t heard from her. On Sunday evening, I opened Instagram and saw she had posted to her story. On her story, Lilly was paddle boarding with a friend up near where she lived. My anxiety and anger instantly spiked. I sent her a text and told her that she had hurt me in our friendship. I told her that I felt really hurt that she’d texted our other friends about her plans while standing me up. On top of that, I told her that it hurt because she had told me she’d be there for me, on a very important day. I had taken PTO to spend time with her, and she backtracked our plans, stood me up, and left me hanging. She replied and said, “I understand why you’re hurt, but I never verified a time with you. It’s not like the plan was solidified”. I texted her a screenshot of her text that showed that she agreed to spend time with me. She replied and said, “Look, I texted the other friends in our group because when I visit, they’re who I’m staying with. I had to let them know if I was coming. I spend all winter building friendships with people because when I go away for work over the summer, it’s hard on me. I messaged them because I need them, and they’re helping me by letting me stay with them. With my job, my schedule changes and I can’t help it. This is the way that it is.” In one last ditch effort, I replied and said, “I’m just asking that in the future, you communicate that with me. I know you can’t help your work schedule, but I’m just asking that you communicate if you have to cancel on me so that way, I’m not being stood up. For our friendship, moving forward, this is all I’m asking. Just basic communication.” After a few minutes, she read my text and didn’t reply. Fifteen minutes later, I started to question why I had responded in a way that I did and gave her an out. Why did I accept that I’d allow a friend in my life to admit to me that they didn’t see the problem with standing me up? Why was I so forgiving, that I was okay with letting her ghost me and stand me up? Why did I let it be okay, and have to bed for something as simple as a text message? Did I lower the bar so low for myself, that I had allowed myself to become desperate for the friendship and approval of someone who took no issue with hurting me in such a big way? I sent a final text, telling her that I was moving on from our friendship. I then did what I should have done a year prior — I blocked her on all social media and blocked her number. I removed myself from her life, and I moved on. Later the next day, I was talking with a mutual friend of hers, and he mentioned that my friendship with him or any of her friends would not be affected. But, he said, “It sucks that you burned that bridge with her. I guess you can’t go back.” This is the moment, I started to re-analyze the idea of cutting people off from my life. Was I wrong to cut off my friendship? Was I wrong to say goodbye, and was I wrong to burn that bridge? First, I want to say:  I did not burn that bridge. I tried to fight for this friendship, and when I was met with resistance, I walked away. That doesn’t mean I burned the bridge. The bridge burned when she stood me up and ghosted me. The bridge burned when I rearranged my work schedule and used PTO to dedicate time to this person, and they couldn’t even send a text message back. She burned the bridge when she explained to me that she felt justified in ghosting me and standing me up… Second, it is not our responsibility to make amends with the people who hurt us. We sometimes feel the need to reach out to someone who hurt us, and give them grace, because sometimes it’s easier to give someone grace than accept that they could actually hurt us. This will now make me ask: What’s broken within us, that we feel the need to give grace to the people who hurt us? To that, I have two answers: First, we sometimes accept negative and toxic behavior with friends because it is sometimes better to overlook someone else’s flaws, than it is to criticize them for it. We are all not perfect, so why would we judge someone else for not being perfect? But, does that make us desperate? For me at least, I've struggled to make new friends in Colorado since moving here. So although I’m not despite, I sometimes overlook things I know I shouldn’t, because I have nothing else. (Okay, maybe I am a tad bit desperate). Second: We sometimes give grace to the people who hurt us, because sometimes, you don’t want to see someone you love self-destruct and hurt the connection you have with them. You don’t want to see the other person in your relationship throw away your connection so easily. However, I’ve concluded several things from this. We can’t be so forgiving to someone else that we end up forgetting to forgive ourselves. You can give grace to people, but not so much that you end up hurting yourself instead. Some connections are worth saving. With some connections, it’s more than worth it to be forgiving because these people enrich our lives and add value to our souls. If you want to know if someone deserves forgiveness, ask yourself this: Did forgiving them take effort? If you’re showing someone forgiveness, and they truly deserve forgiveness, then forgiving them won’t feel like it took any effort at all. It won’t even feel like the act of forgiveness. However, if someone hurts you, then it’s up to YOU to love yourself.  You have to leave that connection and take care of yourself. You simply can’t make a friend appreciate your connection with them, and above all else, you can't make a friend keep loving you. If a friend stops loving you, then it’ll be up to you to give yourself the love that you should be receiving, instead. I’m not perfect, and neither are you. People are complicated, but hey, so are we! I will ask of you, dear reader, to do something that I’m still practicing to do: Love yourself, be kind to yourself, and advocate for yourself for the love thatyou truly deserve. I f you ask me, “How do you be kind to yourself? How do you love yourself?” Then I’d tell you, I have no fucking clue. But, I’m still trying. Although we don’t know how to perfectly answer that, the best we can do is keep trying. Until the next segment of Spilling The Tea, I’ll work on coming up with an answer to that, but you can work on it too. We can compare notes with each other once we figure it out :) Until next time, ~Cody Aka The Oolong Drunk “Blissfully Tea Drunk"

If Gay Means Happy, a Pride Essay by Cody Wade Many of us had a realization in grade school that the term ‘gay’ didn’t really mean stupid. Or, that it didn’t originally mean the ideology of being a descriptor for queer people. Rather, we learned that the old-school term for gay means ‘happy’. For many people, being gay means being sexually attracted to the same sex. But for me, gay didn't mean happy. If gay means happy, then this is what gay truly means to me.... To make a long story short, I grew up in the Selectivitism sect of Catholicism — the branch of Christianity that means that you’re only a Christian on Easter, Christmas, or any presidential election year. For myself, the topic of homosexuality was always a frightening one. I wasn’t attracted to girls, and despite trying to find a sexual connection with the opposite gender, I simply couldn’t. I even went through a phase where I bought Playboy magazines because I thought it would help my sexual awakening. I guess you could say the early signs of my homosexuality were always there because I’d look at the gatefold (of her gatefold) and say, “Wow, she’s fabulous, she reminds me of Britney. She should be respected and not sexualized.” I’d daydream about guys, and when I came-to from the daydreams I got lost in, I re-forced myself to try and pray to make myself normal again. This became a problem once I graduated high school because then, I had no other distractions. I had to actually face it. I eventually became sick, and after spending a month in bed, I realized what was truly making me sick — I was trying to hide how I was. An hour after realizing that I couldn’t change the way I was born, I went into the living room and came out to my mom. She cried, went to bed, and that was the last of it… …until 2 am, when she police-kicked open my door, turned on my bedroom light, and screamed at me to come into the hallway. I walked into the hallway to find her holding a shovel in batting position — angrily swinging it at me while shouting at me to ‘come at me’. I went back into my room, quickly packed a backpack, and shoved past her as I went to my car. She tumbled back, screamed that I assaulted her,  and called 911 as I drove off into Dallas. I called my Grandparents and stayed with them until things evened out. However, my grandparents weren’t the most helpful. I wanted to stay with them so I could focus on finding a new job and so I could try and start school again, but, they said no. I wasn’t allowed to. I spent a few days homeless, and while squatting at their house, I eventually got a new job and started my new job training. After a week of training, I found a roommate in Keller and started working in Southlake as a weight loss consultant. In the meantime, I had to give up my dream of going to college, but on the other hand, I was happy to finally land in a place that was quieter and safer than my mom’s house. If gay means happy… After a few months in Keller, I eventually met my first partner and we started dating. After going to a wedding with him, I put our photo together on my desk. Shortly thereafter, I was eventually pulled aside and talked to about a complaint. A co-worker of mine complained that my photo was inappropriate and that it was offensive to show off my lifestyle. When thinking back on it, when clients would ask who was in my photo, I’d happily say, “That’s my boyfriend”. However, my co-worker would overhear this in her cubical and would get offended. This particular blonde-bowling ball worked a 2nd job at the local mega-church (Gateway I believe?) and believed that it was her duty to spread the word of God by complaining about others who didn’t live the way she saw fit. A southern blonde Dolores Umbridge, as you will. So, as I was saying, my manager pulled me aside and told me that my photo was offensive to ‘others’, and that my photo would drive away business. She said I should know better, especially considering that I’d test this while living in such a strong pro-God community. She then made me sign a write-up, as, 'being offensive and crude to clientele’ was against company policy. Ultimately, I was told to replace it with a cat photo. While I worked off a commission-based bonus, and I didn’t want to risk my income, I contemplated changing the photo. Until, later that week, I was awarded for being the 2nd highest sales in the entire district of 14 stores. I walked past my coworkers and my boss’s desks, which all displayed photos of their SOs, and went outside to call HR. By calling HR, I learned two valuable life lessons. First, all HR representatives look and sound the same (are you also mentally picturing the same person that I am?). Second, HR is not there to help you, HR only exists to help the company. A week later, they sent my boss and coworker to sensitivity training, and was forced to apologize. A week after that, my boss demoted me. I went from 40 hours a week with bonus, to 10 hours a week with no bonus. Eventually, I was falling behind in rent, and eventually, was being kicked out for lack of rent payment. In one last-ditch effort, I applied to a full-time position within the same company, at a location that was near my partner's house in Grand Prairie. After applying, I was denied. The company said that I couldn’t transfer within the company because I had previously been written up, and being written up puts a block on any promotions and transfers within the company. I was forced to resign, packed up my car, and was homeless again. Thankfully, my partner’s landlord let me move in with them until I got back on my feet. But, the new life I built for myself was being taken away again. This new corner that I was rebuilding myself in, crumbled. If gay means happy… The day after moving in with my partner, I drove to downtown Dallas and hired an attorney pro bono who would sue my employer for workplace retaliation. I couldn’t sue for workplace discrimination, because in the state of Texas, LGBT discrimination wasn’t accepted under title-7 discrimination laws. But, my manager left a perfect paper trail of workplace retaliation, and according to my attorney, it was a textbook ‘slam-dunk 'case. We were going to go after them for my loss of wages, loss of credit for being kicked out, and enough money to make my negative bank account go back into the green. We weren’t gunning for millions, or gunning for a headline. We just wanted me to have a restart so I could try adulting again. While awaiting judgment, I got a new job, worked full time, and my boyfriend and I moved into a larger space in Fort Worth. While waiting in limbo, I got more into tea (fun factoid for my fellow tea drinkers: I actually worked at Teavana until it closed, during this period!), started working for a higher-paying job, and was trying to navigate my place in the universe. While navigating my place in the universe, I hit a lot of snags and was held back from many opportunities (such as going back to higher education) because of my debt. But, it was all okay because, despite my limitations, my attorney was working hard to help me become whole again. I was at bay. After a year and a half of sitting in this weird financial limbo, and after trying to get my ex-employer to settle, I eventually got a call from my attorney. I was pulling up to my driveway at home, so I put my car in park, answered the phone, and listened to him say the sentence that’s now engraved into my brain forever… “The judge reviewed our case for docket placement, and after reviewing the case, he rejected it. He said although it was a retaliation case, it was rooted in an LGBT+ cause. Since LGBT people are not a protected class under Title 7 in the state of Texas, he rejected the case. We can not move forward…” I that moment, my brain turned off. The lights turned out, the engine stopped, and my soul sank into my body. From whatever happened next, I can most certainly say, I was not in control of my body. I hung up the phone, walked into the house, went straight to the bathroom, and locked the door behind me. My then-boyfriend noticed something was wrong, followed me into the bathroom, and tried to open the bathroom door. After struggling to open it, he eventually kicked the door down. He body-slammed me to interrupt me from digging the razor blade into my skin. He stopped me from dying. and I didn’t want to live. If gay means happy… After going through extensive mental-health recovery, and after several months of not working, I was in a mentally better place to start working again. Our landlord owned a jewelry shop and he hired me to do random odd jobs around the shop. I’d sometimes ride to work with him, and eventually, my mental health was starting to even out. However, one day, my landlord sent me on a work errand to pick up shelving at Lowes. While sitting in the road and waiting to turn left into the shopping center, a school truck rear-ended me going 60mph (or 96 kilometers per hour), which threw me into the other side of traffic where I was hit head-on by 3 more cars. I crawled my way out of the car and crawled over to the sidewalk. I collapsed and turned over on my back. While lying there, I could hear the screams of a little girl being dragged out of one of the other cars… I also heard sirens, heard more screaming, and the worst part of all — I realized I couldn’t move. I couldn’t lift my neck or shoulder to see the accident, and I couldn’t do anything but lie there helplessly. I also couldn’t move when the paramedics loaded me on the stretcher, and I couldn’t move to grasp what had all happened. When they lifted the stretcher into the ambulance, the stretcher was raised at a slight angle. That’s when I caught a glimpse of the scene — a 5-car pileup with my car in the middle. We arrived in the ER, and shortly thereafter, my partner showed up with my landlords. They couldn’t help me, and worse of all, I couldn’t help myself. After a scan/x-ray, the hospital determined that I fractured my neck, and also determined that I suffered a traumatic head injury. They put me in a neck brace, and eventually sent me back home. This period of my life is also hazy, and I don’t necessarily remember what happened next. But, when it came time to deal with the logistics of the car accident, I learned that I’d have to work with the State Attorney General to resolve this accident since it was a school truck that hit me. They did write me a check to replace my car, but when it came to my medical bills, they told me I’d need to prove them with the help of an attorney. However, I was still injured. And since I needed all sorts of therapy, I’d have to wait until I fully recovered before my attorney could go after the State of Texas. This meant, my life would have to be put on hold again. I was back in limbo again. Throughout the next year, I went through physical therapy, went through extensive psychotherapy for PTSD, and also, went through a failing relationship. My then-boyfriend was developing panic disorder due to the stress of everything and after lengthy arguments about how my mental health was ruining his. I completed my therapy, my neck healed, and my relationship of four years was inevitably failing. My partner found another guy, started seeing him behind my back, and eventually moved out. Since he moved out, I was given a month to move out myself as well. So I packed my bags again, moved to a motel, and squatted with nowhere else to go. My half-sister reached out to me, convinced me to look for a job in Missouri, and convened me to leave Texas for good. So, that’s exactly what I did. I found a job, found a roommate situation, and moved across several state lines to start my new life over again… After a week of landing in Missouri, and after starting my new job, I got a call from my attorney with the good news that this case was going to be resolved. After going back and forth with the state of Texas, the Attorney General’s office settled for an undisclosed amount to cover the hospital bills, physical therapy, and the remaining money I lost for being out of work. I was glad that after going through so much, something I went through would have a final resolution. This meant that I spent my first week in Missouri, not only celebrating my move but also celebrating the grand settlement I’d be receiving from the car accident. After a few weeks of my final payment pending, I eventually for the wire transfer of the grand amount that was being deposited into my account. I logged into my bank account to see that after everything I went through with this accident, and after my outstanding debts were paid from it, I saw the final grand total of $18.00 wired into my account. If gay means happy… After taking five/six months to settle in Missouri, I eventually came out of my shell more. I be-friended my roommates, we went out, and I began making more friends. For the first time in my adult life, I was truly enjoying being in my early 20s. I was living the moment for the first time in my life and began enjoying being alive again. However, although I was living in the moment, I was also ignoring the rest of my PTSD. I couldn’t afford therapy, but I was doing everything else I could to recover from my problems. However, I did go on a few dates. The more dates I went on, the more I met guys who couldn’t be seen with me in public. The more guys that I dated, the more I saw that many of them were in the closet. After a while, I also noticed that the more gay men I met, the more I learned that the gay community in Springfield was angry. For the vast majority of the gay men I met had been sent to conversion therapy by their parents in their youth, or, many of them ended up trapped with a wife and kids, and lived their entire lives in the closet. However, I also learned that the more gay people I met, the more I realized that I couldn’t befriend them. I didn’t live in my hometown, so I didn’t care who knew I was gay. However, many of them, they saw me as this out-of-towner who waltzed in being openly gay with no repercussion whatsoever, and it came off as entitled to them. While navigating dating and friendships, COVID-19 happened and the entire world (except for Missouri, Arkansas, and Mississippi) went into lockdowns. Unfortunately, I caught covid. It wasn’t during the first wave, but rather, during the second wave that hit around Halloween. You could say I was one of the lucky ones, because was one of the fortunate ones who ended up in the hospital. I don’t remember a ton of that weekend, but I do remember being scared. There was no one around me. No family, no partner, and no parent that I could call to my bedside. I remember the nurse coming to my bedside and asking why I didn’t put down anyone for my emergency contact. And I remember not being able to answer her… Three weeks later, I started writing about my experience in leaving Texas in a diary that I used to document my transition into Missouri. After several months of writing, I re-read what I wrote and realized something: This is already a compelling story, but how does it end? So, I turned my diary into a novel and started writing about everything I went through. While writing about Texas, I was re-living my most personal horrors in an attempt to finally put it down and move forward from it. I also began working out, dieting, and began losing weight. After almost two years of making friends and trying to better myself, one of my best friends got proposed to, and she said yes. She and I had grown close, and while navigating friends and dating, she and I had one of the strongest bonds that I had made in my adulthood. We related to each other so much, including losing our fathers at such a young age. This friend and I eventually called each other brother and sister. We even labeled it on social media. So when she met her soon-to-be husband, she was finally living her fairy tale dreams of meeting a man and having a life partner. We daydreamed about her wedding day, and we daydreamed about how much better our lives would be for each other after living such tumultuous lives. Until the wedding invites were sent out. Everyone got one. When I began looking in my mailbox, I realized mine was missing. Week after week went by, and still, it never arrived. After coming up with dozens of excuses for her not sending one, I eventually gathered up the nerve to give her a call and ask what was happening. “Hey, I haven’t received my invite yet. Should I still plan on it?” I asked. After a long pause on the phone, she quietly replied, “Well…. I started going to his church, and we wanted to start our marriage off right with God.” After processing what she was saying, I then asked, “So what does that have to do with me?” Although I asked that question, I already knew the answer. She replied, “Well, we wanted a Christian wedding, and I had to make a few sacrifices to start my marriage off happy. It’s because you’re, well… You know. I have to do what it takes to start my marriage off right.” I sat on the phone and opened my mouth. I wanted to reply, but no words came out. I hung up the phone, and I never talked to her again. If gay means happy… On the day of the wedding, my entire friend group was getting ready to go. However, after talking about how upset they were with the decision to not invite me, we came up with a game plan: Everyone goes to the wedding and the reception (which started at 1:00 pm), and afterward, everyone will meet up at the club to celebrate a Saturday night with me. Although I wasn’t invited, I didn’t have to be left out. I reserved a table at the club for a party of 6-8, and my faith in my friends was restored again. I arrived at the club at 8:00 pm, and after 11:00 pm, I eventually got a text from one of the friends in the group. They said that the reception ran later than expected and they weren’t coming after all. I had sat there for 3 hours, to have this wedding rubbed in my face. My friends stopped feeling like my friends, and I was alone again. I looked up from my phone, grabbed my jacket, and left the club. If gay means happy… On my way home, I pulled over and stopped at one of the only two gay bars in town, and sat by myself at the bar. While trying to distract myself from being stood up, I sparked a convo with the bartender. After a few moments, I looked at the other end of the bar to see a larger group of older gay men (think 50’s-60’s). I watched them as they all looked everyone up and down, gossip about everyone in the bar, and watched them be unhappy as their only connection to each other was being fucked-over my living in Missouri. They all had failed marriages that fell apart when they came out to their wives, they were all still in the closet to some capacity or another, and they were all bitter by how living in their Missouri hometown essentially ruined whatever chance at happiness they’d ever have in life… I remember thinking back to all of the younger gay guys I had met previous to this. I remembered how nearly all of them were either sent to conversion therapy camps or how they were all trapped in marriages they couldn’t escape, and I realized that all of the gay men I met, would turn into this when they were older. This was their future. Then I looked at myself. What about my future? I was sitting at a bar while angry at my friends for ditching me. I was angry at being gay. I was angry at all of the opportunities I couldn’t have due to being gay. Also, I was angry for living in an area that supported homophobia and big religion so much that all of the gay men there had their lives ruined by all of the hate they had to hide from. I was sitting at the bar and looked over at those older gays, and realized that all of my hurt and anger would pre-destine me to be them when I was their age. They didn’t choose this. All of the younger gay men I met didn’t choose this. And above all else, I didn’t choose this. While sitting at the bar, my anger turned into fear. I started to cry, grabbed my jacket, and drove back home. If gay means happy… A few months went by and I began heavily job-searching for any job I could find, in any famously-gay city that I could think of. I didn’t want to live in the South anymore. I didn’t want to live in the Midwest anymore. I also didn’t want to live in any big religious area that would predetermine me to live a life of pain, sorrow, and hurt. I was applying for jobs in San Francisco, Chicago, and Denver. I applied night and day — so much so that I began to lose sleep and became manic. I kept losing weight, and with this, I was losing my sanity. In these 3 months of job-hunting, I had lost two more of my female friends by the same tragic fate I had met earlier with my friend who got married; my gay-accepting female friends met a homophobic man that they wanted to marry. My social life was crumbling, my love life was non-existent, and I was losing all hope while becoming angrier and angrier. In this period, I lived the angriest day that I had ever lived. While job hunting, I did manage to finish my first novel about leaving Texas. Remember how I tried to commit suicide, as mentioned above? Well, when writing that part of the book, I decided to save that part for last. But after a year of writing this book, this was the last part of the story I had left to write. While lost in thought, and determined to finish this book, and accidentally pulled an all-nighter to finish the story. After writing the last page of this novel, I took a deep breath, dotted the last period of the story, and cried. I cried for two reasons: First, I cried because I felt relief. I gave myself the vindication I never got from all that I went through, and I was able to finally let go of the horror I endured. Second, I cried because I wrote my first fucking novel. It took a year to do it, and a year to re-live my trauma, but god damn, I did it. Before going to bed, I got in my car and drove to a local cafe to eat breakfast to celebrate finishing my book. After pulling up to the restaurant, I got a few texts back-to-back — all asking if I saw the news. While confused, I pulled up Reddit and saw what everyone else was seeing. The headline read — — hold on reader, before I tell you what the article said, I need to point out that life is full of coincidences. Sometimes, those coincidences are great. Other times, these coincidences can be cruel. Which coincidence do you think this was? Anyways, the headline read, “The US Supreme Court Passed Legislation Making it Illegal to Discriminate Against Gays in the Workplace, Nationwide” I lowered my phone down in my lap. I put my hands on the steering wheel, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. While trying to let out an exhale, I let out the loudest and most deeply-rooted scream I have ever let out instead… I abandoned any idea of food, started my car, and drove back home. Like I keep saying, if gay means happy… A week after that, I got a call from a bank I applied to in Northern Colorado. Then the next day, I did a virtual interview. Then the day after that, I got the job offer. Three weeks after accepting the job offer later, I packed my U-haul, said goodbye to the remaining friends I had, and moved halfway across the country. I was driving with my two cats in a U-haul going towards a place I didn’t know. To new roommates I didn’t know, and leaving my life behind — for the third time in my life. The biggest difference between this time and last time was, I was running from something in Texas. Now, I’d be running towards something. A brighter future. After getting settled in Colorado, and going through a bad roommate situation, I eventually applied for County Housing Assistance, and thankfully, got a new apartment. My cats and I moved into our new places and we were finally at peace. After being kicked out after high school, and after bouncing around different parts of Texas and Missouri, I finally had a place to call mine. After 6-7 years of having no home, I finally had a place to call home. Quickly after moving, I kept working on myself. I picked up running and lifting, and eventually lost my 100th pound (yes, really! I went from 240lbs to 140lbs), and started exploring Colorado on my own. I tried to pick up dating again, and eventually got into a new relationship. I began writing my 2nd novel which was based on my friend group in Missouri, and started becoming the most confident I had ever been in being an openly gay man. Except, something was wrong. The more that I came out of my shell, the more that I noticed two problems: I was In a state full of transplants, and yet, didn’t belong. The more I dated and got involved with the gay community in Colorado, the more I realized that being in a place that was more open and liberal came with a trade-off. That trade-off was a classist trade-off. The more gay men I met who were openly gay, the more I realized that they came from wealthy backgrounds. Many of the openly gay men I met (even my first ex in Colorado), came from such a strong background of wealth, that they had a freedom that I had never experienced before. They could afford to go be free somewhere, and they could afford to go explore their sexuality however they wanted without fear of their entire life falling apart. They could still return home, and they could never be limited by their sexuality.  They all had college paid for, walked into a 6-figure job, and didn’t experience having to struggle to survive and succeed in life. Now, I’m not trying to take away anyone else’s experience, because I did meet affluent gays who choose to go back into the closet to be able to live on their family's wealth. However, it is a choice they were allowed to have. They had what I didn’t: I didn’t have financial support to start my life, I didn’t have a clique of city-gays to befriend, and the biggest one of all — I didn’t feel the comrade that others have felt by being able to afford to live in such an open and accepting place. Whenever I did meet and date the other gay half of the community (aka the ‘less than 6-figure a year’ gays), I realized that monogamy was a myth. The more that I explored dating, the more I learned that I could date many amazing gay men, but I would have to be in an open relationship. I’d be a 3rd — a ‘trouple’ (as you will). With this trade-off, many of these gays also had religious-based trauma, and many of them were afraid to fully commit to one thing because whenever they did, they got rejected for their sexuality. So thus, open relationship. This was one thing I didn’t get to learn while in Texas or Missouri, that being openly gay in a liberal place like Colorado, was a financial privilege. After spending over two years trying to find my place in Colorado, I finished my 2nd novel. I dug deep into myself unpacking all of the hurt I went through (again), and continued to better myself. However, if gay means happy… So, what did all of this mean for me? We'll get there, I promise. In September of 2022, I was invited to serve tea at my best friend’s wedding in Carmel-By-Tthe-Sea. He met the love of his life, they dated until she graduated from college, and finally, their fairy-tale ending was finally happening for them. I went, served tea, and saw my best friend the happiest I’ve ever seen him. It was the closest I've ever been to the feeling of true magic. On my flight back from San Francisco, something within me broke. A black hole grew within me like a virus and it consumed me, and eventually, began to ruin me. While trying ot fight the ever-consuing black hole growing within me, I was on the phone with a friend while having a conversation about loneliness, and expressed how I was struggling with having a stronger start in a place where I didn’t feel like I belonged. She said, “You should stop trying so hard to date and stop trying so hard find friends, and you should really focus on being more comfortable with being by yourself. You need to work on yourself.” Granted, she was only looking at my issue through the lens of a straight white woman who married a man with money, and she really was trying to help. However, with that one sentence, she reduced my entire experience of surveying as a gay man and turned it into being someone who is desperate. However, I wasn’t desperate. I continued to do things by myself. I went on hikes, I went to dinner, I went to several concerts, and traveled to see virtual friends all across the country, lost 100lbs, went to thearpy, wrote two books, and above all else, I did all of this by myself. My loneliness and isolation didn’t stop me, and no matter how heavy it got, I did not stop and I kept going. Her phone call was the final catalyst into sending me deeper into a hole that I now couldn't crawl out of. I continued to down spiral from the loneliness. I noticed people around me living the life that I always wanted. I wanted to have graduated from college, I wanted to have a decent-paying job, and I wanted to marry someone and start a family. I wanted that connection, and I wanted that community. No matter how many times I went out and had life experiences, I still came home to an empty apartment. Eventually, I stood on the roof of my apartment’s parking garage and peered over — ready to jump. I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t angry, and I wasn’t hurt, I was just simply done. After contemplating jumping, a virtual friend sent me a message, talked me off of the edge, and helped me seek therapy. After going to therapy for six months, I finally found a middle ground in coping with my loneliness. But, I was in debt again. So now comes the answer to the question I’ve been asking all along: If gay means happy… …then why is it not? First and foremost, fuck Texas. Second, fuck big religon and fuck anyone who uses God's name to justify their homophobia. Third, fuck affluent white city gays. I could almost overlook their gross-entitlement towards other gays if it wasn't for their blatant racism (no, really, they really are racist. Ask any one of them if they'd date anyone who is not white and watch them sweat like how I'd sweat in a cofession booth. They'll advocate Black Lives Matters and will 'YAS queen' to Sza while vominting in the back of the mouth at the idea of kissing a gay person of color). Lastly, I didn’t choose any of this. I didn’t choose to be homeless three times, displaced from my home three times, didn’t choose to be fired from work for being gay, and I didn’t choose for any of my friendships and dates to make my sexuality conditional to being involved in their life. To a point, I did have a choice in all of this: I chose to move away from Texas. I was also very lucky and fortunate to have an introspective ‘ah-ha’ moment about my anger in Missouri, and I was even luckier to have the opportunity to move to Colorado. But, all of this came at a cost. Me being out of the closet, cost me my home, It cost me 2 suicide attempts, It cost me education, It cost me many friendships, It cost me many career opportunities, It cost me the prospect of finding a life partner, It cost me the prospect of being able to start my own family, It cost me my youth, And it cost me the ability to have true peace in life…. I spent many years waiting for some grand retribution and waiting to receive my flowers for going through what I went through. It wasn’t coming, so I decided to give it to myself. I did invest in my tea blog, and I had incredible opportunities from some amazing and incredible people I’ve met through it. I did give myself the freedom to blossom it. I also double-downed on my health, and like I said above, I lost 100lbs. I wrote two books (and might publish them one day). Above all else, anytime I feel the weight of all of the loneliness that I’ve collected along the way, I have to remind myself that this the price of my freedom. All of these realities, fears, and feelings are the flowers I had to give myself, just so I could simply be myself. Growing up, I remember watching the NBC show Will & Grace, when Grace was teasing Will over a break-up he once had in college. He wrote in his diary, “If gay means happy, then why am I so sad?" In the show, it was a joke and it got lots of laughs. However, it always stuck with me as being something that wasn’t a joke. It felt true. I’m almost 30, and I now sit back and watch all of my friends move on from college starting to find life partners, marry their life partners, start families, and go through the normal stages of life. Meanwhile, I’m still recovering from the shockwave of my sexuality blowing my life up. Despite all of my therapy, I’m still left with two reoccurring nightmares that sometimes wake me up in the middle of the night: The night I came out to my mom (the night she had the shovel and whatnot), she screamed at me that if my father would have been alive, he would have hated what I become... As for the other nightmare, I also have the reoccurring nightmare of somehow being made homeless for a 4th time. When these nightmares wake me up, I’ll lie awake in the middle of the night and begin to think about what it truly means to be gay. I’ll often think about how I'd finish the question, “If gay means happy…?” For Pride month this year, I can finally say that if gay means happy… ...then maybe one day I will be, too. Best wishes, ~Cody Wade Aka The Oolong Drunk “Blissfully Tea Drunk With..." For pride month, if you want to make a donation to help support me and my blog, you can send me a donation here:

Hello hello! In this week’s episode of creating better click-bait titles for SEO optimization, I’m going to talk about a topic that many tea professionals love to over-complicate. They make it seem like it’s some advanced level that you need to work hard to obtain, and if you don’t, then you’re now a blooming idiot who doesn’t drink advanced enough tea. Also, you’re somehow greeted with a huge 'burn in hell' for enjoying a bagged tea. So with this, I’ll go over the biggest mistake people make when brewing tea, how to fix this mistake (easily), and above all else — how to fix this mistake while enjoying whatever tea you like. I’ll also go over how to make the perfect cup of tea (it’s quite simple really, I promise). First, let’s get a stigma out of the way — there’s not one singular correct method for brewing tea. Many tea snobs would have you believe that there’s only one right way to make tea. Which, is incorrect. If you drink bagged tea, gong-fu tea, a mug with an infuser, cold-brewed overnight in the fridge, or a teapot with lose-leaf tea out in the open — then you’re just as valid for enjoying your tea the way you like. Second, I’ll advise you that many tea companies have instructions on how to brew their tea that are specific to their brand. For example, if you look at a box of green tea from the grocery store, it may tell you to brew your green tea with hot water at 170ºf for 3 minutes. Meanwhile, some veteran tea bloggers will tell you that you have to use boiling water for your tea and must brew it for 5+ minutes. So, who is right and who is wrong? Well, my professional answer is: They’re both correct. My petty answer is: The veteran bloggers are wrong because if your tea comes out bitter, they’ll tell you that the tea was produced wrong. This is a problem because many veteran tea bloggers somehow don’t know that you can singe an agricultural product with hot water and not everything was meant to be hard-boiled. If you follow Alice down the rabbit hole of a Google search on ‘how to make tea’, you’ll actually find that everyone has a different answer. Some places say you can hard-boil your white tea, and some places say you can’t. Some places say to use 180ºf for oolong, and some will say to use 200ºf. Some bagged teas will say to brew your tea bag for 2 minutes, and others will say to brew it for 5 minutes. Meanwhile, some keyboard warrior on the /r/tea subreddit will tell you that everything you’re doing is wrong and will downvote you regardless of how you make your tea. So what is the biggest mistake people make when making tea? The biggest mistake they make is stressing out over brewing instructions. It’s not their fault really, because the tea industry forgets to promote this one very important piece of advice that everyone should follow to enjoy their cup of tea: Experiment and have fun! Yes! It’s really that simple. Tea is not singular. No two teas are 100% identical. To add, no two tea drinkers are the same. According to a study published to the US National Institute of Health, the way your body perceives taste varies based on your age, gender, and race/nationality. Scientifically, we all experience taste differently. With this, when one person says to make tea in a very specific way, it's because that is what’s right for them. This begs the question: How do you make a perfect cup of tea? You don’t. Well, not at first at least. When making a cup of tea, I always recommend to try the tea more than once. With each time, make it differently than the last. Brew one cup with boiling water, and another cup with cooler water. Brew it once for 2 minutes, and brew it again for 5 minutes. When it comes to seeking out the perfect cup of tea, you need to keep in mind the previous point mentioned above: What is perfect to me, may not be perfect to you. Does this have to be stressful? Not at all! If you don’t like your cup of tea one way, then try it again. With this very act, you’re exploring you’re likes and dislikes, and you’re narrowing down your preferences. This exploration is not only fun, it’s constructive to figuring out your own personalized bliss-point. But with this, is it sustainable to afford enough tea to figure this out? Well, yes. It can if you want it to be. If you’re new to a specific type of tea, then buy an affordable version of that tea to experiment with. For myself, when I first got into Japanese Sencha, I bought the Costco-brand bagged sencha and brewed it multiple different ways until I figured out a method that worked best for me. With this, keep a few of these quick and helpful tips in mind when exploring your own flavor profile in tea... This should be a fun and empowering process. You can use pre-determined brewing instructions as a guideline, but if it doesn’t work for you, then branch out! But keep in mind, nobody is in the wrong. Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re enjoying your cup of tea the wrong way. You’re making tea for your own enjoyment, and no one else’s. If you're brewing tea for other people, then still brew it for your enjoyment. Hell, you bougt the tea with your own money. Your tea, your dollar, your method. Don’t read too heavily into snobby tea circles like the /r/tea subreddit. Reddit is a very negative website, to begin with. One incels truth does not have to be your truth. Boiled water can burn food products. Tea is an agricultural product. Burning things with water is singeing them. One of the ways tea releases flavors is through the release of an amino acid called L-theanin. Tea also releases tannins are broken down into two kinds: theaflavins and thearubigins. Tannins are extracted from the tea leaf based on the temperature of the water you use, because the hotter the water, the quicker it’ll draw the tannins out of the leaf quicker than the L-theanin and makes your cup of tea more acidic (which translates to bitter/astringent). Different tea types have different levels of tannins, because the more a tea is cooked and oxidized, the more it’ll lose its tannins. Green tea typically has a higher amount of tannins because it’s oxidized at a much lower level, and is typically steamed when cooked. Black tea has a lower amount of tannins because is it roasted and oxidized in a way that makes it lose them (well, in the very generalized sense — this rule doesn’t 100% always apply). So when you brew green tea, such as matcha for example, you don’t typically use boiling water to brew it because it’ll extract the tannins in a quicker and higher concentration before the L-theanin has a chance to be extracted from the leaf. This is why green tea is typically made with cooler water because it allows the L-theanin to become extracted before the tannins have a chance to become over-extracted and overpower the L-thenin. So when a .99¢ off-brand back-alley veteran tea blogger tells you that if a boiled green tea is bitter because the tea is produced incorrectly, then they are biologically incorrect for suggesting you can go against the laws of nature that are presented in basic food science, and are being a fucking stupid silicone dildo who needs to shut the hell up and be humbled out of their superiority complex. They're also racist because they're asserting that they know more than the tea farmer, whose culture is rooted in their own culture's heritage, by telling the tea farmer that they're wrong when they brew the farmer's tea incorrectly. Tell those stupid angelo-saxon colonizers to let people enjoy what they enjoy and stop blaiming tea farmers for their ignorance. To conclude, go out into the world of tea and have fun exploring! I can't wait for you to explore you're new tea adventure by finding your perfect cup of tea, and can't wait to see how you end up finding it <3 With much love, ~Cody aka The Oolong Drunk "Blissfully Tea Drunk"

Hello hello! Around September of 2022 (18 months ago), I quietly took on the task of tasting as many mint teas as I possibly could. As of now, I've tried and tasted 54 mint teas! I tried pure mint tisanes, mint-based blends, and various other mint-oriented teas that the industry has to offer. Why did I do this? I honestly don't know. It was a compulsive action that had little-to-no thought going into it. This might be very left-field for many of my readers, and honestly, it's surprising to me too. Which mint teas did I try? Which mint teas are the best of the best? Below is my comprehensive list of categories of mint-based teas that I’ve tried over the past year, and at the end, will reveal the best mint tea that I enjoyed the most. Categories are broken down by three sub-categories, and the winners of the categories were selected by the following factors, Mint flavor profile The aroma-to-taste ratio (does the mint taste as strong as the smell? Freshness Natural sweetness Quality Accessibility & Affordability At the end, two grand-prize winners will be announced. They will win nothing, besides the gratitude of knowing that a Colorado gay favors them. Note: Multi-flavored mint-infused tea blends will be omitted from this list, as there are way too many to obtain to completely rank/judge for this list. So if you’re a fan go chocolate mint or watermelon-mint teas, I’m sorry to say that you wont see them on this list! Anywho, let’s move forward! Grocery Store Brand Mint Teas: Walmart: Great Value, Peppermint Herbal Tea Target: Good and Gather, Mint Tea HyVee: Decaf Peppermint Green Tea Traitor Joes: Decaf Peppermint Green Tea Kroger, Private Selection: Peppermint Herbal Tea Whole Foods, 365 Whole Foods Market: Peppermint Herbal Tea HEB: Caffeine-Free Peppermint Herbal Tea Bags HEB Organics: Caffeine-Free Peppermint Herbal Tea Meijer: Peppermint Tea Wegmens: Just Peppermint Herbal Tea Sprouts: Organic Peppermint Herbal Tea Winner: Traitor Joe’s Decaf Peppermint Green Tea Mainstream Box Brand/ Bagged Tea Brands: Traditional Medicinals: Organic Peppermint Tea Traditional Medicinals: Organic Spearmint Tea Stash: Peppermint Herbal Tea Celestial Seasonings: Peppermint Herbal Tea Harney & Sons: Peppermint Herbal Tea Twinings: Pure Peppermint Yogi Tea: Purely Peppermint Snarky Tea: Cheer The F**K Up Limited Batch Mint Tea Bigelow: Peppermint Herbal Tea Tazo: Organic Regresh-Mint Teapigs: Peppermint Leaves Smith Tea Maker: Peppermint Leaves Herbal Tea The Republic of Tea, Super Herb Tea: American Peppermint The Republic of Tea: Organic Mint Fields Herbal Rishi: Mystic Mint David’s Tea: Peppermint Armour Tea Mariage Frères: Peppermint Tea (Mentha Piperita) Adagio Teas: Peppermint Mina: Moroccan Nana Mint Taylor’s of Harrogate: Organic Peppermint The Tea spot: Organic Herbal Peppermint Tea Mighty Lean: Organic Mint Melange Tea TeaLyra: Pacific Coast Mint Pukka: Three Mint Organic Herbal Tea Winner: Mariage Feres: Peppermint Tea (Mentha Piperita) Moroccan Mint/Mint-Infused Tea: Art of Tea: Mint Green Tea Tea Forte: Moroccan Mint Tea Drops: Peppermint Tea Numi Tea: Moroccan Mint Herbal Tea Mina: Organic Moroccan Mint Green Tea Mighty Leaf: Marrakesh Mint, Mint Green Tea Organic India: Tulsi Peppermint Tea Stash: Moroccan Mint Green Tea Smith Tea Maker: Moroccan Mint Green Tea Tealyra: Moroccan Mint Fortnum & Mason: Moroccan Mint Green Tea The Republic of Tea: Moroccan Mint Green Tea The Tea Spot: Moroccan Mint Tea Mariage Frères: Casablanca (Green Mint Tea) Adagio: Mint Moroccan Tea Oliver Pluff & Co: Mint Gunpowder Green Tea Bigelow: Perfectly Mint Black Tea Tea Forte: Moroccan Mint Harney & Sons: Organic Moroccan Mint Winner: Numi Tea: Moroccan Mint Herbal Tea Before I list my winners, I want to point out some observations that I’ve notated in my journey: Many of the same mint teas were duplicates. By this, I mean, it was very evident that many of the same companies used the same supplier for the same mint tea. It wasn’t until almost a year into this journey that I made this realization. Though, by this point, I was too knee-deep into the journey to want to re-visit half of the teas to pinpoint which ones were duplicates. I would argue/predict that for many of the larger national-brands (including the grocery store brands), come from the same 3-4 vendors. If you enjoy one of the teas from my list, chances are, you have already drank 3/4 other ones. Believe it or not, mint had a very subtle difference in taste depending on the region it was grown in. My OCD kicked-in to really notice, and you’d have to hyper-focus to notice a huge difference. To piggy-back off the last point, I’d argue Pacific North West mint was arguably the best out of all of the regions of mint I’ve tried. I now hate mint tea Ok, without further ado, here are the best mint teas that I favored in this journey. Overall Best Mint Tea: For this list, I have a two winners for the best mint tea you can overall buy: 2nd Place: The Republic of Tea: Super Herb Tea, American Peppermint 1st Place: Smith Tea Maker: Peppermint Leaves Herbal Tea ~Cody Aka The Oolong Drunk “Blissfully Tea Drunk With”

Hello hello! Last month, a company reached out to me to create educational content for them on social media. After going back and forth on an agreement, we agreed that they’d sponsor me to create a reel, upload it, and add it as a creator on the post. The idea was that, with this agreement, my audience would see their brand as a form of advertising, with education surrounding their teas, and would help this tea company's web traffic. After spending six hours of filming and editing a reel, I was ready to upload. However, when the tea company reviewed the reel before publishing, they said, “This is great for education, but you didn’t review us. We believe you should review us in the reel to enhance the education.” After explaining to the company that in our agreement, I specifically negotiated that I did not want to review their tea and that I’d only be making an educational-only video. They replied, “Well, we understand that our original agreement outlines that the video be educational-only, but we will wait for payment until you add a review of it in the video. If you want, you can still post the video as-is so your work doesn’t go to waste.” So what did I do? I did exactly as they advised, by posting the video. I went back to my video editor, removed every mention of their company, deleted any video footage that displayed their branding, re-recorded my voice-over, and published it (which, you can see here). However, among the tea educator and blogging community, stories like these are way too common. Many of you might not know this, but I’ve actually worked in the tea industry for over a decade. Despite that I’ve only blogged about tea for 8 years, I have worked in various tea shops long before putting my thoughts to paper. As a fun fact, did you know I used to be a shift leader at Teavana before they closed? After being in the tea industry for so long, I have seen a pattern of disrespectful behaviors from the tea industry, to tea bloggers, educators, and influencers. So, how should tea companies approach and work with tea bloggers and influencers? What should tea companies know about tea bloggers before interacting with them? Below are 7 tips and factoids about tea bloggers that tea companies should keep in mind when approaching tea bloggers and influencers. (Photo: Me presenting at the 2023 Mid West Tea Festival in Overland Park, Kansas on October 22nd, 2023) 1. Understanding Tea Blogger’s Dispositions Many tea companies do not completely understand that many tea bloggers and tea influencers have to buy their way into the industry. What does this mean, exactly? Many tea bloggers, educators, and social media influencers are complexly out of pocket for all of the work they do. Many blog-hosting sites and domain websites cost a lot of money, and given the social-media presence of the tea industry as a whole, there is not a lot of opportunity for bloggers or influencers to make brand deals like other industries (such as the beauty industry, for example). When bloggers review tea, post photos, and publish reels, they’re doing it all on their own time and dime. 2. Valuing The size of Tea Social Media Audience In the tea industry, many tea bloggers have a smaller following when compared to other industries. The beauty-brand industry prevails on social media, whereas the tea industry across the board doesn’t reach anywhere near the same size of audience. At the time of this posting, Lipton only has 119,000 followers on Instagram. This type of size trickles down to tea bloggers and influencers. A tea blogger with a following of 2,000 followers, is a large number of followers. Tea bloggers primarily fall into the category of being a ‘micro-influencer’. However, it’s been studied that micro-influencers have a more direct tie-in to their audience, and when marketed to their audiences, can generate a more-dense revenue stream. Because micro-influencers following is a niche, it allows them to seek out people with a stronger buy-in to the hobby. 3. The Size vs. Value of Audiences In my experience, I’ve had many tea companies approach me when partnering with me, and undervalue my audience size. Hypocritically, many of these tea companies have a similar follow-count to me or less. Any tea companies have looked at my audience size and said, “Your follow count is only 5,000, the financial value of your size isn’t a lot.” However, if a tea company has a following of 2,000 followers, and I have a following of 6,000, then my reach is triple the audience of theirs. As I already mentioned above, this is all relative to the size of the industry on social media compared to other social media industries. My rhetorical question to you is, in what other industry can businesses afford to work with an influencer that has 300%+ of audience size to them? The difference in size-ratio doesn't make it less valuable. In fact, it makes it more valuable. 4. Why Bloggers Promote Some and Not Others, Willingly Now that we’ve covered that tea influencers have stronger engagement with their audience, this means that they have a stronger influence over their audience when compared to someone who has a massive following. However, when you tie in the fact that tea influencers are completely out of pocket for all that they do, this means that they will most likely only share content that relates to things they have personally enjoyed. If you’re a company and ever question why tea bloggers will post about many companies out of their own volition, it’s because they’ve had to filter all of this out for themselves. 5. Entitlement, ‘Exposure’ is NOT Payment While entitlement in the industry goes both ways (and is something I’ll cover in a future post), I can’t even begin to tell you the number of times I’ve had a company reach out to me and say, “I’ll pay you with exposure.” Nearly every single company that approached me with this, has had half of the following that I had…. Yes, that’s laughably bad. But, you can’t give a blogger better exposure when you already have less of a following to them. This is the quickest way to get an influencer to not only avoid working with you but to ghost you and never reply again. One other thing to remember is that work is work. Exposure is not payment, it’s just a keyword for use when you want to take advantage of someone without paying them. Educators, bloggers, etc. can’t pay bills for the equipment they need, to provide you free media. I can’t pay rent by showing my apartment's property manager the follow count on my Instagram page. 6. Is Tea an Acceptable Payment? When companies approach me and say they’ll pay me with exposure, and they are met with pushback, they’ll also offer to pay bloggers by giving them their product. However, this is not any better than offering to pay them in exposure. Why not? Well, let’s sit back for a moment and talk about my main career. Currently, I work as a banker at a bank, and I specialize in IRAs and HSAs. I also sometimes pull a cash drawer and help with teller work when we’re busy or short-staffed. Now, in my cash drawer, I’m required to keep a certain amount of money in my drawer. While l can’t disclose the actual number, let’s just say it's $5,000 for example. Now, how would you react if I told you that my bank required me to front up the $5,000 in cash for my cash drawer, to be able to work at the bank? That would be absurd, right? Supplying an employee with specific materials to perform their job duties is not considered payment. To drive this home more, I was once a freelance photographer for a leather company to help them take photos of their inventory for their yearly catalog. They had a massive warehouse of wholesale leather products, and they had thousands of photographs that they needed to take and process to be published in their catalog. Now, could you imagine if they tried me and told me that I’d have to take their photos for free because they didn’t require me to buy every single product I had to take a photo of? That’s still absurd, right? My counter-point this (or, the reality) is that most bloggers and influencers will happily promote tea brands for free if given free tea because many bloggers will see this as their hobby being self-funded. However, not all of them feel this way, and that also doesn’t mean companies should take advantage of blogger’s goodwill. If tea companies want to support bloggers and influencers for collaborations, then support them. As I mentioned above, calculate the value and what it means for your company to have the advertising space of being promoted by a blogger, and move forward accordingly. At the end of the day, it's an advertising expense. 7. Work is Work In the latter part of my blogging career, I have veered away from reviewing teas and focusing more on tea education. While doing so, I’ll often work and collaborate with tea companies to utilize their products to promote tea education. I’ve also been approached by companies to help them promote their products by hosting live sessions with them, as well as various other content — including product photography. However, many of these deals did not come to fruition because I required some sort of financial compensation for my time. I’ve had the reason of ‘audience size’ be cited for why I shouldn’t be compensated (adding on from the ‘exposure’ comment from earlier in this article). However, at the end of the day, work is still work. Filming videos, taking photos, editing visual media, interviewing, and hosting sessions all require work. I will say it again — work is still work. Let's give an example: You’re throwing a wedding with over 200+ guests in attendance. You have an audience of around 200+ people, and you want to cherish the memory of your wedding by hiring a wedding photographer. The wedding photographer spends 4+ hours taking photos attending the wedding. They go home, sift through thousands of photos, and narrow down the shots to several hundred. They then spend the next month editing the several hundred photos and make them look as perfect as possible. Now, imagine going to this photographer and saying, “Hey your work is incredible but my wedding only had an audience of a little over 200 people, I don’t believe I should monetarily compensate you because the audience at the wedding isn’t as big as we wanted, and you should be grateful for the experience. You got exposure to those 200 people anyway, and that could lead to more opportunities.” That would be absurd, right?! RIGHT! Exactly! If you go to a content creator for product photography/videography, and you don’t feel like you should pay them because they don’t have a Kylie Jenner following, then you’d be just as absurd. Not only are you assuming you deserve free labor, but you’re also telling content creators that their skills, extensive education in said hobby, work-history, and content are valueless. You’re telling them you deserve to use their extensive research and history in said niche for free. (Photo: Me presenting at the 2023 Mid West Tea Festival in Overland Park, Kansas on October 22nd, 2023) How to Move Forward: The Bottom Line Let’s cut to the chase: Many tea bloggers and influencers are wonderful kind-hearted people who partake in this industry because they have a true passion for it. Many bloggers do not financially benefit from being in the tea industry, and many of them are actually indebted to it. Many tea bloggers would love a chance to talk about your product, and simply, would be grateful to just have the opportunity to connect with you. Tea bloggers are passionate people who absolutely love what they do because they have a pure love for the industry and the product. I can say for myself that I have a long history of being used, taken advantage of, and manipulated by tea companies for 8+ years, but keep coming back because I absolutely love what I do. With this, keep in mind that many tea bloggers do not receive any monetary help of any kind, and they fight an uphill battle. Despite fighting the uphill battle, they are often excluded from many narratives that they helped create off the sweat of their backs. Tea educators, bloggers, and influencers do not reap the benefits of their work; they do not reap the benefits of their work in the same way that other influencers and bloggers receive from other industries. With this, move forward with compassion, understanding, and a realization that tea educators, bloggers, and influencers are a massive asset to the world of tea because of their dense pipeline of content-to-follower. We are also the largest asset the industry has to offer because we will be your biggest cheerleaders and want to see you grow and succeed. Also, don’t forget that when educators, bloggers, and influencers succeed, the entire industry succeeds. As a tea educator and blogger, I can safely say that we just want you to want the same success for us, that we want for you. Thank you for reading and thank you for being willing to learn a new approach to working with educators, bloggers, and influencers. Just by reading this, you are already taking one massive step forward. With best wishes, ~ Cody Aka The Oolong Drunk “Blissfully Tea Drunk…”

This is rich, especially coming from a social media influencer… I know what you’re probably thinking. It’s either, “Cody’s unhinged again”, or, “Why is the pot calling the kettle a, well narcissist?” After working in the tea industry for over a decade, and having a blog for 8+ years, I’ve met a lot of people within various facets of the tea industry — all the way from tea bloggers, educators, high-level executives, and even lower-level social media influencers. I’ve also noticed that despite the industry's image of warmth, love, and self-care, the industry from every angle is very cold and uninviting. Regardless of whichever type of tea industry professional, there seem to be people with narcissistic tendencies scattered consistently throughout. So what is it about the tea industry that harbors this specific personality trait? Does this have anything to do with why the industry is cold and uninviting once you peel the first layer of the onion back? Below are some of my observations, and while not everything is rooted in fact, I will say it with an authoritative stance as if it’s a fact. So, let's dive in! The Ritual: Tea ceremonies can categorized into two main types: gong-fu and high-tea. For many people who drink gong-fu, gong-fu tea is used as escapism to help detach from mental health stressors, and to focus on the senses with breathing techniques. This in itself, is a form of meditation. According to the Healer Within Foundation, the practice of gong-fu tea is an actual form of mindful meditation. However, according to the Oxford Academic, mindful meditation is connected to Hinduism and the Buddhist belief system. One of the major tenets of Hinduism is enlightenment. Given that enlightenment is one of the major tenets of Hinduism, it invites the narcissistic personality trait by making the practicers of Hindus believe that they are more knowledgeable than others. The superiority complex that’s associated with narcissism and the tie-in with the Hindu belief was studied extensively, and written about by PHD and Author, Dr. Pilar Jennings, whose career incapulizes the study of both psychotherapy and Buddhist meditation. With all of this, the link between gong-fu tea and meditation, with traditional roots in the Hindu tenant of enlightenment, is a short link between connecting gong-fu tea and narcissism. Sitting at the head of the tea table of gong-fu tea, and the idea of leading a tea session can loosely be linked to having a superiority complex. However, the link doesn’t just exist with gong-fu tea, the link also exists with high-tea as well. According to Psychology Today, they link that chefs of fine dining intertwine their self-worth into the cuisine they create. This can also translate into high-society as well. According to a journal published in 2013, upper-class individuals suffer from greater psychological entitlement and narcissism. Given that high tea is rooted in classist institutions, the link between high tea and narcissism is a strong one. Tea Industry Professionals: In my experiences as a tea blogger, I’ve worked with a varying amount of tea companies that operated on a small scale, to a massive global production scale, and everything in between. According to a paper published on the Social Science Research Network, CEOs have a statistically higher level of narcissism and a higher level of self-importance. In my observations of the tea industry over the past decade, narcissism isn’t specific to high-level executives either. According to a journal published in 2023 on Science Direct, there’s a link between narcissism and entrepreneurship. Given that there has to be a high level of drive, and self-importance to guide that confidence, business owners on a small scale are more susceptible to narcissistic personality disorder tendencies as well. While I don’t have a direct calculation, I want to point out that you could indicate that a self-important person who partakes in an industry that’s rooted in an attitude that drives self-importance through enlightenment, there is an observation that could be made that this invites a self-important person to partake in a practice that better highlights self-importance. This means that the door is open for a higher percentage of narcissism to flow into the tea industry, compared to other industries. Tea Bloggers and Self-Care: It's no hidden fact that the rise of social media has increased the rise of both narcissism and anxiety among young adults. According to a study published in 2008, researchers indicated that there is a causation between self-image and narcissism, tied to social media and the youth. This takes various shapes, but how does it take shape within the tea social-media blogosphere? Self-Care Given the large amount of tea bloggers and tea companies that promote self-care, there is actually a link between self-care and narcissism. New York Psychiatrist Dr. Samantha Boardman once wrote that the psychological connection between self-care and self-love can be a tightrope balance between being mindful into being narcissistic. The idea of caring for oneself can be so self-reassuring that it’s more about you — not the people around you. There is also a link between altruism and narcissism as well. When tea industry bloggers and professionals push the narrative of self-care, they’re the link between sharing self-love, and altruism. According to a medical-reviewed article on MentalHealth.com, altruism masks the personality traits of people who martyr themselves for a belief system. Within social media, there are countless amounts of people who primarily post and lead workshops about self-care, self-love, and self-meditation. While those things are not necessarily a bad thing, surprise surprise, they also make a full circle back into the narcissistic trait of enlightenment... The Bottom Line: It's All Narcissism Based on my findings, you could conclude that there’s an industry of narcissists who congregate around a narcissistic-driven activity with a narcissistic-enlightened attitude, which accompanies financially wealthy and upper-classist narcissistic ideals, pushed and marketed by people with narcissistic entrepreneur self-important drive, which is drunk and talked about by other altruistic narcissists on social media platforms that harbor and grow narcissistic personalities. To make things more comical, tea industry professionals will also award themselves with awards when given the opportunity. In 2023, at the World Tea Expo, they awarded one of their board members (the same board members who voted on tea industry award winners) an award…. Over the past decade in this industry, I can’t count on one hand the number of people I’ve seen who dropped out of the industry because they didn’t receive the outward praise they sought from being within the world of tea. These same people leave the industry disappointed because they looked at other industry narcissists, and realized they didn’t benefit in the same way as the other industry narcissists — the same narcissists who’d boast about knowing how to make tea ‘the right way’ while leading a gong-fu or meditation session. Some of the signs of narcissistic tendencies I’ve noticed over the past decade, in the tea industry are, — When someone says they know how to make tea ‘the right way’ — They offer tea and meditation, but only through them, especially if meditation and self-care is more about the host than it is the audience — When a high-level executive of a tea company regularly posts photos of themselves plucking/making tea, especially if they have the frame of a person who has never worked a day of hard labor in their life — Their posts and photos of their tea and meditation, are primarily only photos of them drinking tea while meditating — If they got their high-level position at a tea company through their family/nepotism — Someone who is aggressively insistent on leading a tea ceremony and wont share the experience by not letting others pour tea at the same said-ceremony — If they are white and American, and claim they know more about the culture and history of Asian Tea than the people whose culture it is itself — If they are white and American, and claim that 'tea caused all of the world’s wars', which goes back into manipulating a foreign culture to fit their personal narrative — If the tea drinker is male and starts a podcast instead of going to therapy — If they run a tea blog and quit within 6-12 months of launching it because they don’t have the audience they think they should be receiving — If their Instagram-grid has more photos of them with tea, or enjoying tea, than tea by itself without them — If you post photos of you leading a tea ceremony with people surrounding you, and post this on a semi-consistent basis. If you ever question why the tea industry is cold, cliquey, and uninviting despite the warmth it promotes on every single level, you might take a step back and realize that this industry is rooted in self-involvement at every single level. While not everyone in the tea industry is a narcissist, the industry attracts and prevails the narcissistic personality type. If you peel back the onion layers of this industry, you'll see that a lot of the industry is not in it to help you and is certainly not here for the love of tea; behind their front, they're in it for themselves. And while not everyone in the industry is a narcissist who is in it for themselves (and while I started this sentence with a coordinating conjunction and end it as a run-on sentence), and while there are a lot of genuine and amazing people in the industry, at the end of the day, I’m a narcissist, you’re a narcissist, and simply -- we’re all narcissists. With much love to myself and my accomplishments, ~ Cody aka The Oolong Drunk "Blissfully Tea Drunk...."

Choo-choo! All aboard! Today, we have a thrilling adventure in store for you. Today's story will take place on a train, and will include various James Bond-esque melodramatic scenes, and will include snarky fourth-wall breaking scenes as well. While boarding today’s locomotive, you’ll be receiving a ticket to the luxurious first-class cabin that will include the amenity of ‘spilling the tea’. Yes, that’s right! As we cross though the St. Louis Arch and travel West, we’ll be on the adventure that is my blog’s fourth consecutive bloggisavery post -- where I spill all about this past year’s tea blogger drama. With this, pack your baggage as I unload mine, and we will travel down the train tracks of how my biggest year in tea ended up being my worst year in tea. All aboard! We’re now boarding the train. (Photo credit: Saraii Seleste Photography, at Trident Booksellers in Boulder, Colorado) Starting our Journey: Loading The Cars Boarding this train included being linked up with various different kinds of train cars that would all be leading the adventure — launching car passengers into 2023. All of the various train cars lined in a succession of the events that represents my past year in tea. The first train-car sat passengers that would be headed to a New York adventure. The next train car then loaded up passengers that would be for a Colorado Adventure. Last but not least, the last train car that concluded the train is the the caboose — which was full of passengers that were destined to arrive in Las Vegas. However, unbeknownst to the conductor, these train cars were built to fail. These train cars were built by ’Chaos’ — and Chaos degraded the quality of these train cars in a similar fashion to when Boeing dropped in quality after switching CEO’s in the 90’s. Also unbeknownst to me, the anticipated joy ride would turn into a 'Final Destination' of my own. At sharp o’clock, the train left the station and was well on its way to a destination it would never reach... (Photo credit: Saraii Seleeste Photography, at Trident Booksellers in Boulder, Colorado) Train Car 3: The Caboose After planning for this trip for over a year, my time had finally come. I looked out of the window of the Caboose of the train, and out into the desert to see a vast landscape sand (or, a blank slate). With this blank slate, the picture had been painted that I’d be a keynote speaker for an educational incubator for one of the largest tea conventions in the Corporate States of America. This convention was one of the pinnacles of the tea industry in the West, and anybody who was anybody would be attending this event. On top of these 'anybodies who were anybodies' were a higher tier of privilege, who got to speak at this said-event. Out of the entire industry, I was one of the lucky ones who held a Golden Ticket. As one of the keynote speakers for this event, I gathered over a dozen allies to join me on this trip. I also sold booth space for this event to a vendor who relied on me to help them get set-up at the event. At this point, I had also supported this institution by writing for one of their subsidiaries for over two years as a regular contributor. The ticket prices to see me speak were extravagant, and I had finally made it to the pinnacle of tea blogging. I went from being a follower in the industry, to being a leader of it. With being a leader, I also took the lead for organizing a blogger meet-up on the showroom floor.I wanted to meet some of the people who supported me in my journey, and also meet other fellow tea-bloggers who were on the same journey as me. This was my victory lap. This was my time to celebrate my career in the industry. However, I wouldn’t be writing about Las Vegas if any of this went perfectly well, would I? When I got off of the train and onto the platform, the conductor of that train had halted and would be stopped in its tracks. First, one of the event organizers reached out to me. She claimed she worked for the convention as a liaison of the bloggers. She hears whispers that I was organizing a meet-up with the other bloggers, and said that I was wrong for doing so. This particular person used to be a tea blogger herself, but abandoned her tea blog seven-plus years ago to work in the fashion industry. Despite that her personal involvement in the tea industry had long-belonged to the past, she told me she held the authority of tea bloggers and she was the authority I’d need to report to from this point on. She then told me that I needed to compile a list of all of my tea blogger friends, with their contact info., and hand all of my work over to her so she could take it all from me, and that it was now all of her responsibility. When I asked her why, she said it was because the tea expo viewed all of the tea bloggers as ‘users who only show up for free stuff’. She explained that her voice was more valuable than mine, and since my career was only in existence for the prospect of free shit, she could get me further. She said her voice was at the only one the expo would listen to. She said she'd be doing this remotely, as her main career in the fashion industry would prevent her from going to the expo herself... She was now both the gate, and the key, for me to carry on with my personal project of meeting other tea bloggers. After we hung up that phone call, I immediately blocked her number. Now, as for my next horror? I had asked the event manager, and expo owner, for a hall pass for me to bring plus-one to the event. Given I was speaking as a headliner, and given I wanted to bring a family member with me for support, I figured this would be an easy accommodation, right? Wrong. Bot the manager and owner responded with, “No more free stuff.” I was confused because up to this point, I had not asked for anything at all. Not only did I convince 12+ people to spend money at the event, but I had also got the expo clients to run booths at the event as well. With context, the conference paid me $400 to show up. I paid $1,000 for the entire trip out of pocket, which meant that I was $600 in the red for this event. I brought the estimated $10,000 to their event, and when I asked for a hall pass, I’m somehow using them for free stuff...? I felt manipulated, gaslit, and above all else, I felt utterly worthless. I didn’t want to go anymore, but also, I signed a contract, which meant that I am now using a redundant statement in this story by saying 'I couldn’t not go'. I was now forced to go to an event where the industry reduced me to being a ‘beggar’. I showed up to my presentation, gave one of the best presentations I’ve ever given in my career, took photos with friends, and left Vegas with a cup of bitter tea in hand. The train then left the platform, and resumed on its journey on the train tracks. While further along on the tracks, I published my review of my experience of the expo on the blog, went viral with it, and got fired from writing for the publication that was tied to the expo. My editor of two-plus years unfriended me on social media, and my career as a professional writer within the tea industry was now over. I was no longer a leader, and no longer a follower; I was nothing... In a moment of sheer random chaos, a rock got thrown onto the train track — causing the wheel of the Caboose to jump off of the tack. After quickly noticing the train car losing speed, I quickly got off of my train seat and stumbled as the train car rocked back and forth. I grabbed my carry-on and went to the front of the train car — seeing that the hook that had pulled the train car to the locomotive had un-hooked. As the gap between the train cars slowly widened, I took a deep breath, clutched my carry-on, and jumped from the caboose onto the next train car. I grabbed the handle from the side of the next rain car, turned around, and watched the caboose come to a slowing halt —being left behind on the train tracks… (Photo credit: Saraii Seleste Photography, at Trident Booksellers in Boulder, Colorado) Train Car 2: Colorado While safely traveling further away from the disaster that was the caboose, I saught safety in a train car that was the most solid link on the train. This link was built on friendships that had spanned over three years. These were friendships that I had made through out my tea blogging journey, and after a while, some of these friendships turned into chosen family. My chosen brother got married, and I even flew out to make tea at their wedding. With this, his wife became my new chosen sister by default. My chosen brother and I had virtual tea for several years, and when he got married, we included his wife and continued to have virtual tea with each other on a regular basis. To my joyous surprise, they booked a trip to Colorado. They booked this trip six months in advanced, and would be traveling to see me on July 4th. With this new Chosen Family Reunion, we invited several other friends to travel to Colorado to join us on our Colorado tea shenanigans. To join us was a bi-alley from Texas and another chosen family member whom I had collaborated with previously on my blog’s talk show (who, we'll call Saxophone for the story). This couldn’t have come at a better time — this was 3-4 months after the caboose of my train had derailed and I really needed the company. I had experienced a lot of social isolation by that point, so what could be better than visiting my chosen family? July 4th came around, the newlyweds flew in, Saxophone also flew in, and the Bi-Ally drove up from Texas. Over the course of the next three days, we had a Colorado adventure. We became tourists in my hometown, had tea at various shops, ate at various restaurants, and hiked into the mountains. After three days of non-stop adventure, Saxophone flew home, then the newlyweds flew home, then the bi-alley drove home. The trip was perfect and had a Disney ending, and everyone lived happily ever after… You didn’t actually believe that, did you? This is my blog’s anniversary post, which is famous for being a tell-all and full of drama and whatnot. As much as I want this train car to ride along happily to the train’s destination, it won’t. By the way, don't you just love fourth-wall breaking? Hi reader! How are ya? Are you enjoying this year's post? I know it's a little slow at the moment, but just stick with me here. It's going to fall apart even more, I promise <3 Anywho, let's get back to the story... After everyone left, I realized that I was wrong to connect this car to my train because it wasn't as solid as I once thought. After weeks went by, none of my chosen-family had answered my calls. Our virtual tea sessions came to an end, and the friendships that had been an instrumental part of my life had suddenly disappeared. While insecure, I reached out Saxophone and inquired as to what I did wrong. He later replied and said he had just been busy with his new internship, school, and also taking a summer trip. He then said he loved me. I took my newfound reassurance and went to the Newly Weds and asked them about if everything was okay. They said they had also been busy and had been too busy to schedule time to catch-up with me. They also reassured me and said the Colorado trip was incredibly fun, and they had a wonderful time. I had nothing to worry about. They also told me they loved me. However, I reached out to the Bi-Alley and confronted him with my insecurity by asking, “Are we ok?" Ten minutes of typing later, he said that our friendship would be coming to an end. Despite that we had virtual tea for over a year, meeting me in person was different. He said that he didn’t wish to be friends with me any longer. There was no further explanation, no further reasoning, and no clarification. Our near two-year friendship was over... It's safe to say, Insecurity entered the train car. Despite being devastated, I looked around the train car and realized that it was now empty. I spent three years filling this car with friends who turned into family, and despite the validity of them stepping off the train, it didn’t change the fact that they had gotten off. Even as of now, while writing this post seven months later, I had only had virtual tea with Saxophone twice, and never had virtual tea with the Newley-Weds again. Three years of consistency turned into an infinite emptiness in the matter of minutes. I packed my carry-on, opened the door that connected this car to the first train car, and turned around to look at the hollow structure one last time. I pulled out a hatchet from my carry-on and held onto it tightly as I took a deep breath. With the swing of my hatchet, and a tear strolling down my cheek, I took a swing and detached the car from the train. The connection broke, and the train kept traveling forward — leaving the train car behind in an infinite emptiness as it became a part of this voyage’s past… Train Car 1: New York While traveling on the last train car on my maiden voyage (Is that exclusively a boat term...? Ok that, but whatever the train version of that is…), I realized I was in the most structurally sound train car on this entire journey. You see, despite riding in this train car now, this particular train car had been under construction since January of 2023. The construction started with a meeting with an East Coast tea company, who met with me to discuss plans surrounding my talk show's fifth and final season. At this point, I had already been in production with the final season for several months and wanted to go out with a bang. That said-bang would be hosting the premiere of my tea talk show in New York City, in a joint event with this particular tea company. I would also film three episodes of the show while in New York as well — getting double usage for this trip. This was all set to take place in the fall, and given this would be a paid event, they’d be covering my travel expenses and sponsoring the premiere. After a very successful meeting, the train car started construction. So what did she have to do with my rail journey to New York? We’ll get back to that in a moment. Anywho, at the end of my successful meeting, I began writing the script for the fifth and final season of my talk show. With the format being on Youtube, I decided to take a new approach to this season — I’d scrip comedy bits that were ‘out there’, and I would also be performing in a new persona that asked absurdly silly questions to a panel. After writing a script for a character that would be zanier than myself, I lined up the panels and began filming the talk show through Zoom. I also flew to Mississippi and filmed on-location at a tea far as well. This was great because all of my friends were on board with playing along with the show’s new antics. I filmed ‘in-character’ for three-plus months, organized collaborations that spanned across the globe, and even set up a charity drive for the talk show’s final season. However, as the fall arrived, I realized something was missing — the tea company whom I had been planning this event with. After reaching out to them for clarification that we’d still be hosting the premiere of my talk show, they verified they had a few locations in mind to host it and our plans were foolproof. I began inviting friends to travel to New York and join the event, I took PTO from work, and the ball was finally rolling. The turbulence of the tea expo and the failed friendships were finally in the past, and I had something monumental to look forward to. It would be the revival of my career. Except, this is my regularly scheduled anniversary blog post… You what's coming. Three weeks before the event, I got a message from the tea company. They informed me that they hadn’t been planning for the event all summer and that there wasn’t enough time to secure a location last minute for the event. With this, they said they’d only pay for my airfare, and I’d have no place to stay when I arrived. When I confronted them about everything, they said that a place to stay didn’t encompass the parameters of the term ‘travel’. They also said they got busy and didn't mean for me to plan for an event that was no-longer happening. I didn’t save for travel to NYC because I didn’t know I’d have to budget for it three weeks in advanced. After a bit of arguing (which mostly consisted of me telling the tea company off) we parted ways. I was then thrown into a massive panic attack as I realized two things would now have to happen, — I’d now have to call six separate people to tell them to cancel their reservations and travel plans to New York City. When making these phone calls, I learned that four of the six people had non-refundable travel expenses that they now lost money on. With this horrific revelation, the second thing I learned that I’d now have to scrap three and a half episodes of my tea talk show, which were filmed with the intent of having filming continue in New York City. I’d have to re-film nearly half of my tea talk show and start over. While in a panic, I tried reaching out to my writing friend. We had grown distant since filming my talk show earlier in the spring, due to her busy schedule with her up-and-coming project. However, when asked to have virtual tea with her, she said we’d have to plan a virtual meeting with each other for almost two months out due to her new busy schedule. While upset, I looked around my train car and realized that something was odd. The train was traveling faster and faster in the opposite direction of where I was supposed to go. I jimmied open a window, stuck my head out, and saw that the train was headed directly for the Grand Canyon. In one last-ditch effort to save my train, I used one of my last lifeline andI phoned a friend. We’ll call him Coddled Rich White Boy, who I had befriended several years prior to this. CRWB and I had grown close due to the fact he was also a tea blogger. Him and I had met at the expo, and we had spent time together for when I few out to Chicago a year prior. When reaching out to him, I expressed that I had lost a part of my career, my close friendships, and now the one thing I had left — my tea blog. I told him that I was isolated, experiencing destructive loneliness, and my mental health was slipping… To my surprise, he understood. He told me to book plane tickets to Chicago to see him so I could take a break from my life, and I could enjoy the company of a friend. He then sent me $100 to help afford a $400 round-trip plane ticket to Chicago, with the agreement that I'd help him host a tea-tasting event he was organizing. With my new life preserver, my train switched courses and was now driving along the edge of the Grand Canyon. Except, a two weeks later (a week away from seeing him on the same weekend I was supposed to go to New York), CRWB called me to tell me that a family reunion was happening the same weekend I was supposed to fly out and see him, so he made reservations to see his family instead. He canceled his event, I had to cancel my flight, and I told him I needed space from him. I told him that I felt betrayed, and inevitably, our friend ship ended. I snapped. I started posting pleas for help on social media, and asked various friends for help. I was becoming suicidal and realized that I had a constant panic attack that lasted for three straight weeks. I looked around and I now had zero friendships, a tanked blogging and writing career, and a show that I had been working on all year — just falling apart last minute. I had lost over $300 on my trip to Chicago, caused four people to lose money on travel plans because of me, and was completely isolated from everyone who once mattered to me. As I sat in the last remaining train car of social and career isolation, with the train repositioning its GPS to go full-steam ahead into the Grand Canyon, I will ask you — the reader: How many friends watched me suffer and struggle, to the point that I was on the brink of death? How many people in my life do YOU think offered assistance to help get me off this train ride that was plummeting into the everlasting Canyon of depression and suicidal ideation? Zero. Everyone in my life became a witness to my mental health downfall as my train finally derailed, and headed straight for the canyon. As the train’s whistle began to blow full steam, ran to the back door of the last train car, swung the door violently open, ran, and jumped off the train as the train plummeted off of the edge of the canyon — disappearing into the abyss forever… (Photo credit: Saraii Seleste Photography, at Trident Booksellers in Boulder, Colorado) Finale: Walking the Desert As I walked away from the canyon of dispare, I called another tea blogger during a panic attack. For the story’s sake, I was wandering endlessly in the desert. In reality, I was on the rooftop of a high parking garage and was ready to jump off with a note in hand. This particular blogger talked me out my panic attack and helped calm me down. But, how did I end up on a rooftop, ready to jump? Well, shit continued to hit the fan. After pushing back the premiere of my talk show by a month, and scrambling to put together a show that was half-scrapped and re-shot last minute, I was accused of being on drugs. Despite giving a disclaimer before filming my panels, most of the panelists quickly distanced themselves from me and thought my being ‘in character’ was just a mask for me being an addict. While I had worked on the scrips for the panel for almost a full year at this point, what really hurt about these accusations was that not one person reached out to me to ask if I was okay… I wasn’t on drugs, but hell, if you saw me trippin' so bad that you thought I was winning gold for the Long Jump at the Olympics, I would hope that at least one person would ask how my mental state was. My show went to shit, my freelance writing career went to shit, my social life went to shit, and I was isolated more than ever. With carrying a weight that was too heavy, and with the help of a fellow blogger, I found a therapist and started getting help. I began therapy, and slowly walked further into the desert and far away from the edge of the Grand Canyon. As far as my friendship with the ‘coddled rich white kid’ goes, that also hit me pretty hard. I had harbored this friendship for around two years, and when I needed him most, he canceled on me. It wasn’t like we lived in the same city and our places were canceled last minute — I had invested over $400+ to visit him when I had reached rock bottom. When someone is drowning and you send them a life preserver, just to pull it right back and say ‘sike! I gotch’ya’, was very hard for me to accept. I knew he had issues of his own, but I still took time from this friendship. After a few months of distance, I ran into him at the MidWest Tea Fest, where he was representing a tea company. After trying to come around to this friendship again and extending an olive-branch, he sent me a few angry texts — saying I was initially wrong to throw away our friendship. But, was I wrong to take time to myself to recover, when he left our friendship first? I say no. He would say yes. But when I took time to myself to recover from how he hurt me, he claimed I 'disrespected his namesake'. (I uh, I dunno how to respond to 'disrespecting his namesake' besides, how white-boy of him to respond that way but here we are). While in my recovery, I had also reached out to the Newly Wed couple and the Saxophone friend who visited me in the summer. They all chatted with me on the phone, reassured me that our friendship was okay and I had nothing to worry about. I had to accept that although they still had love for me, the the dynamic of our friendships had changed -- and that's okay. They weren't wrong, and neither was I. They are the greatest three people I'll ever meet... I don't have a point with this, besides that I just love miss them. This past year in my blog has had some bright spots, such as getting to film the talk show at The Great Mississippi Tea Farm and getting to go to the MidWest Tea Festival as a consultant for Snarky Tea. I also got to have my own tea cake pressed for the talk show, and also mat a lot of lovely people from the Colorado Tea Society (hi Peter, hi Jenn, and hi Brian!) . However, when it was all said and done I still walked into my apartment to find an empty home; I was still alone in the desert. It's not like I haven't tried making connections with people offline either. My failure at doing so would require a separate post, but one of the amazing things about the online community I had is that I could fall back on my online friendships. I mean, most of us were friends for several years who had virtual tea with each other on a regular basis, so it wasn't as much a fallback as much as it was a part of my life. However, for the remainder of my virtual friends all dropped out of my life. Through rumors, I heard that they dropped out of my life because they were also going through something. Instead of reaching out like me, they all reacted with an avoidant-attachment style, and when shit hit the fan for them, they dropped out of my life. I watched nearly all of my virtual friendships fall apart and avoid me, yet still post on a regular basis because they said it helped their mental health -- but not so much that they shut me out and disappeared from my life. If my friends can't share their life with me, and be honest, and shut me out and ghost me, then I don't need any further proof of the way in which I perceived the valued those relationships, was not the actuality of how they were actually valued... If a friend shuts me out (like, the coddled rich kid from Chicago for example), it's not up to me to understand them if they don't communicate that they're going through something. If I reach out to them and try to obtain a better understanding of them and they're avoidant, then it's not really on me to save those friendships because they never gave me the opportunity to be understanding of them or their struggle... Could I have reached out to them and ask for reassurance again? Sure, I could have but didn't because simply, I didn't fucking feel like it. I couldn't deal with being ghosted again. My heart longs for them and I miss them terribly. However, I read somewhere earlier in the year that the term love is not a noun, it's a verb. Relationships go both ways, and it takes two people to make any kind of relationship work. Some of the other friends I've made with other tea bloggers have expressed that they want to spend time with me and want to meet over tea, but only under the condition of meeting at the Expo -- the same expo that launched the start of my series of unfortunate petty events... After expressing to so many of them that I would meet them anywhere else, and meet under different circumstances, they went silent. This in itself, made me feel devalued in these friendships as well. I don't blame them, because really, I was miserable around the majority of the tea friends I met in Vegas (due to the circumstances) and probably left a bad taste in their mouth. Maybe I'm part to blame for this. Maybe I ran them off. Maybe I was clingy to some of these friends because I felt my reality slip through my hands and witness my world fall apart in real-time, and they distanced themselves so they wouldn't have to be apart of a derailing train. Maybe if I was on a train that was derailing and I was desperate for help, maybe I needed people in my life who were understanding and loving, instead of avoidant. Maybe I needed love and compassion, but, got silence and ghosting instead... While walking in my desert, another tea blogger reached out to me and said the best way to fix my problem is to practice spending time by myself. This social isolation hit even harder with the realization that I have gone seven months of the year without a hug from friends or family -- three months being the longest stretch without one. My loneliness is already killing me enough as it is, so the idea of being even-more alone feels like a death sentence... I’m now walking into my eighth year in blogging and trying to find my way out of the desert. While trying to navigate social isolation, loneliness, and lack of community, I can at least say I’ve made a lot of progress with my therapist and I’m no longer suicidal. No longer being suicidal should feel like an accomplishment, but it just feels like that the bar for recovery is still set too low -- especially when I feel more isolated now than I ever had. I’ll be walking out of this dry heat, and will be searching for a way out of this desert. My heart is hurting, I’m sunburnt, and dehydrated, but I’ll be finding my way out of this desert the same way I began this journey… …alone ~Cody Wade Aka The Oolong Drunk (Photo credit: Saraii Seleste Photography, at Trident Booksellers in Boulder, Colorado) Also, P.S. To the Oregon tea company who blocked me on Instagram when I told them they had a ‘white savior complex’ over their belief that all of the world’s wars were fought over tea, I have one question for you: How did I know that you were born a rich white kid who only dates Asian women? How exactly did I know that? For some reason, rich straight white guys LOVE Asian women, and claim that they are unique for drinking a drink that has caused all of the world's wars… If you are a straight white man from America whose parents have an exuberant amounts of money, and you identify as a tea drinker, the following message also pertains to you as well so listen up: Tea does not need a white savor, and you are not unique for drinking the second most drank beverage in the world. You did not invent tea, you did not invent tea culture, and you are not a part of the trade history of the tea industry. Does the tea trade have involvement in some wars? Yes. But with the same logic, you could also stupidly argue that red lights cause all traffic accidents for people who run red lights… In case my example is too complex for your 'I read Marvel comics and I can save her’ brain, I’m here to tell you that involvement does NOT equate causation. I'm also afraid to ask for the opinion of how this fits into WWII, because I'm afraid you'd say that WWII was caused when Hitler got pissed at China over the tea trade and took it out on the Jewish race, you idiotic fuckface. But, you know that making a statement like that would be incorrect, right? Do you also realize that when you manipulate a complex Asian history into your Anglo-Saxon American narrative, you're making a racist statement, right? You’re not unique; you’re a coddled rich white kid loser who has never had to work a real day in his life, and you’ll amount to nothing. Go outside, touch grass, and go fuck yourself with your parent's money and go fuck yourself with your racism. Oh, wait, are some of my assumptions about you wrong? Oh, my bad, you of all people should understand the feeling of grossly misrepresenting something to fit your personal narrative. Silly me! I wonder where I learned that from!? That is all... If you want to read previous-year's Blog Anniversary posts, you can check them out here: 5 Years in Tea: My Side of the Story 6 Year Bloggiversary: SOS! The Sinking of the RMS Tea 7 Year Bloggiversary - You Sold Out Your Culture Special thanks to the talented photographer Saraii, whose work can be found here! If you happen to be in Denver and need photos taken of yourself, please reach out to her! Also, more special thanks to Trident Booksellers and Cafe, who gave me permission to have my photos taken at their shop. Trident has become one of my absolute favorite hang-out spots, and has been a place of safety for me over the past year. You can buy their teas online here! Please show them some love :)