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Pity, Party of One, Your Table Is Ready...

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The Jerry Falwell Free Gay Advertising Program

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thirty-something

Pontiff-ication

We Weren't Recruited, We Enlisted!

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One man's journey of coming out has helped hunderds more with their own struggle.

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     I’d like to, but I can’t because no one did!  Christ, you all bitch up a storm because the Gay St. Louis Bartender Contest is a few issues late, but no one could lift a finger to e-mail me to ask where I’ve been for awhile.  Hell, I could’ve been kidnapped by Exodus International to brainwash me into eating pussy, but you’re like, “Girl, I just bought the hottest pair of Calvins for the Lights Out Underwear Party at Faces on November 24^th!”  In fact, the only e-mail I got from someone wondering what happened to my column was from Ron, Slam!’s editor.  And all it said was “START.  SEND COLUMN BITCH.   >:{   END.”  Yikes!

     Enough of the pity party, already.  Yes, I do plan on telling you where I disappeared to before the suspense kills you.  But before that let’s get to the point.  For a while there I was really feeling sorry for myself about the mess I had gotten (myself) into.  Then I ran across a coworker and asked him how he was doing.   He said, “Well, I’m still alive.”  That actually helped me put things into perspective.  Sure, I was in emotional turmoil and my life was in upheaval, but I wasn’t living in a mobile home in Dupo, Illinois eating cat food.  There were tons of people in the world a lot worse off than me.  In fact I started to realize how lucky I was.  I hadn’t won the lottery, but I hadn’t been struck by lightning, either.

     We all have a little of that built-in martyr complex.  Some of us even thrive on it.  Hell, we wouldn’t be gay if we didn’t have a flair for the dramatic.  But a little goes a long way.  We’ve all had friends who live for drama.  Someone who doesn’t feel good until they have something to bitch about.  Someone who thinks Job from the Bible didn’t have shit on her.   Someone who if committing suicide would cut their wrists with pinking shears just for the added effect.  While gay people have definitely endured hardships, I think the Jewish people have the lock on suffering.  So when your friend Tragicula comes up to you and starts unloading emotional baggage, just tell her to wander the desert for forty years and then come back and shut the hell up until then.

     For six years I’ve been in a long-term relationship.   Overall it was great.  We never fought or argued.  We were so comfortable together.  Okay, after six years the spark had dimmed a little, but I never imagined that I wouldn’t be spending the rest of my life with him.  But then I never imagined that I’d fall in love with someone else.  And that someone else would fall in love with me in return.

     For a period of at least a month I couldn’t figure out what to do.  Should I stick with what was tried and true, or take a risk and start again from scratch?  Either way someone was going to get hurt, but I didn’t want to hurt anybody even though that was going to be impossible.  My work and appetite suffered.  I was cranky towards everyone.  Half the time I felt like crying, and the other half I felt like I was going to barf.  I sure didn’t feel like writing a humor column.  All because I was “stuck,” if you will, between two great guys.

     Most of you are probably having a hard time generating any pity for me, just like my friends did back then.  To their credit, my friends always gave me support whenever I needed it.  I don’t know how my PSF’s (Perpetual Single Friends) put up with me.  There I was complaining how I was “trapped” between two wonderful guys when they hadn’t had a relationship since Madonna was a virgin.  Imagine if you were dying of thirst in the desert, and someone came up to you and said they couldn’t decide between the Evian and the Naya.  That they were even cordial to me is a testimony of how good friends they are.

     So there I was.  Now I can look back and realize how lucky I’ve been.  Some people go through their entire lives without finding someone special.   To this day I’m still amazed I found someone out there who would even put up with me, let alone love me.  And then I found another one.  Yes, the timing sucked.  But Thanksgiving is coming up, and it’s time to count our blessings for all the good things and people in our lives.  It’s time to break up this pity party.

     Now after moving and starting over, I’m finally able to write another column.  I’m excited about what the future may hold with my new beau.  Still, all I know for sure is that there’s a newly-single wonderful guy out there who deserves to find someone who will treat him better than I did.  And that overall I’m a lucky guy.  So if you hear me bitching about how rough my life is, just pop me on the head and say, “Shut the hell up!”