I know that as my 30s progress my odds of being wolf-whistled and come on to by folks other than boyfriends and close friends will diminish a bit (Oh, but I still keep working out and doing the little things to get fit and such), but that reality takes something out of me. I feel even more mortal - like I know that aging is the most universal thing we all do, but that I was expecting to get some kind of rain check on it... much like having a realtionship - sexual or otherwise - is the healthiest thing one can do, but it goes down like castor oil or 666 Cold Preparation sometimes - not very easy going down for the relief it can potentially give. John puts up mirrors frequently to how selfish and bombastic I appear sometimes (especially in public), and it's not a comfortable sight. I'm just so happy it blended in last night with the roller derby crowd.
This email was followed by a couple of phone calls with both Dave and Mark - both of whom are asserting that I should use today's stop at my therapist (a very positive - and necessary - visit in hindsight) as a gateway to much more intensive things, possibly with a prescription or two thrown in. We'll see about that; what I feel pretty sure of is that the relationships have changed a bit - for better or worse remains to be seen.
|If I am elected, my pope name will be:|
Pope Abhorrent Brian I
In other news, John and I fought a little over dumb shit last night. This too will pass (hopefully with the Mets in the World Series - this is being written about 45 minutes before Game 7 of the NLCS. Apologies to any St. Louisans who should come across this entry.)
Last night, for example, I was pondering my relationships at this point in life, especially the intimate ones. At one point while I was doing laundry, my thoughts drifted to the one time I ever ended a relationship - with my first boyfriend Eddie when I was 16 - and how ugly it still feels almost 20 years after the fact.
That particular breakup, as early as it came in my gay (and dating) life, may have been one of the events that seriously damaged my relationship with my father. That will happen when somebody who's had your penis in his mouth once or twice makes random, borderline harassing phone calls to your phone number when you're not at home, but your father - convalescing after a severe diabetic episode - and your grandmother - who has told you she's convinced homosexuality is a conscious choice, and one she has issues with - are. And the only way to stop him is to scream bloody murder at him into the phone one fall Friday night... which gets him to stop calling, but also has him calling you "arrogant" and "inconsiderate" to your friends and anyone else who'll listen (not the biggest deal now at 34, but straight-up embarrassing at 16).
Since then, I've been the dumped instead of the dumper in large part - and it's a position that I much prefer. If (when?) I had to end a relationship now, would I even have the skill to navigate it without the drama and the harassment?
In other events, I'm looking forward to the Rewey fireworks tonight after work (and the jerk chicken I'm making for the potluck at Susan's beforehand) and some other busy-ness between now and my departure for MMF on Wednesday morning.
Last Saturday showed that "rule" and one of its numerous exceptions. The rule, in my estimation, was heading up to Spring Green with John for a graduation party for two of his nieces - one from eighth grade, one from high school. John's family always seemed like they got along... not robotically well, but well enough to ride some rough shit and still be able to be civil to each other, and anybody brought into the family. Friends and family all around, and (even though the food was real good this time) a good time was had by all who attended (It didn't hurt that there was a Cubs game on throughout, followed by a tape of a school play, "The Three-Piggy Opera," featuring the oldest of the Greenwood great-grandchildren as the Wolf.).
Contrast that with the Fire Department steak feed that evening back in Point. Things went well; we got our dinner and all. Some older lady came up to say hi to John; he said, "Hi, Gerda" and that would seem to have been nothing special. On the way back to the car, he told me who the woman was, and explained why he didn't want to introduce me (a cascade of personal beefs, some related to the theater group in town, some related to the woman's daughter and son-in-law; I only knew the son-in-law, and let's just say he doesn't think highly of John and me being a couple.). I asked him for some details (my inner gossip-hound!), and let's just say I got more than I asked for, as well as another excuse to ask John what it is about his circle of friends and their concentric circles that makes falling out with each other so damn easy.
I wonder what other rhetorical questions are still out there, just waiting for fools like me to act like they have real, concrete answers?
I guess that I sometimes think it's okay to leech (especially since I overcompensated by nearly tripling the dessert total at Beltane by myself), and I just wanted to not have to think about another dish (especially since the cabal decided on a Mexican theme for tonight, and I don't have enough time at this point to plan something from the office - I had to come into work today.).
I always figured that being queer meant I was better (by a large amount) than marriage - that shit is for other people who just have to make babies and try to do the house/two kids/garage act. Now that 30 has come and gone and 35 is about to crash into me, I'm faced with a serious realization: I'm part of this world, and I've got to think about what I would want if I weren't able to be nearly as independent as I am - nearly as prone to "Peter Pan syndrome."
More than a few people (boyfriends included) have also pointed out to me that I might do well to file away those downright negative opinions of marriage (that I developed during a childhood spent watching my parents shout at each other from afar) in order to help the greater good. They all make a valid point. I'm just afraid that, if I do that, then I risk falling in with every gay couple who's ever tried to send my blood sugar through the roof by talking about rings, ceremonies, and sticking together for life. Am I ready to do that with ANYBODY?
Oh, well. Another day of work looms...