Okay, so now for a light bit of sharing (aka gossip). The Drummer and the Ex just met each other a few weeks ago at LA Gay Pride. Being completely honest, I have thought about how this meeting would go SEVERAL times over the past two years. When I say several, I probably really mean hundreds.
I had gotten an invite to a friend's annual Pride Brunch. This was a brunch that I went to every year when I was with The Ex. We had a blast. Lots of vodka. Then we would all head to the parade and eventually all lose each other and have stories of our "lost Pride Sunday" to share the next time that we would find ourselves in the same room together. Obviously, I hadn't been invited back since the Ex and I broke up. This was his friend and I totally get it.
But this year, I got an invite. And I thought, "Why the hell not?" Enough time had passed and honestly, I thought that it was high time these two met. I wasn't going to be fearful about how it was going to go down. So The Drummer and I went with another friend of ours. He wasn't there when we arrived. So I just headed straight to the vodka and we all had drinks. I saw some old friends I haven't seen in almost three years. It was a great catch up. There was one person in particular who definitely seemed a little scared to see me. He looked at me like he was going to get in trouble when my Ex found out that we had talked. Actually, he looked as if my Ex had a mini bomb implanted in his skull that was about to go off.
So we came and went from the party without seeing him. We went to go watch the parade and as he headed down the street towards the parade I saw a mutual friend of ours and then I saw the Ex and his boyfriend. I had enough vodka in me that I didn't skip a beat. I went and talked to the friend first.
While we were chatting, I caught the eye of my Ex. Also, I should mention at this point that The Drummer has no idea who I'm taking to. It could be any gay friend of mine. So after we caught each other's eye and I waved, I marched up to my Ex. I gave him a hug and probably a kiss on the cheek. Maybe. Then I looked down at his shorts. My Ex is quite the dresser and I saw these shorts with embroidered spiders on them. It was a classic moment. My heart got a little warm and I smiled because OF COURSE he had shorts with embroidered spiders. Just like I would always picture him: a great pair of Prada loafers or a jaunty chapeau or embroidered shorts.
The first thing I said to him was, "It's good to see you." We chatted for a second. But then I felt I needed to introduce the Drummer. So I said, "This is my boyfriend, _____." Then I turned to The Drummer, who still had no idea who I was about to introduce him to and I said, "_____, this is ___." It was after the fact, that The Drummer said, "Holy shit, I didn't realize that was ____." They said hello to one another and then the Ex introduced me to his guy.
And this is the thing that struck me then and still sticks with me. He never introduced him as his boyfriend, just by his name. It felt dismissive. And I have no right to say how this guy should be treated because as another friend mentioned to me a couple of weeks later, it's really up to the boyfriend how he wants to be treated. Agreed. So that was over and the last thing I said to my ex was also, "It was good to see you." And we were off.
Admittedly, I was a little freaked out. But it happened. The Drummer was awesome in his surprise at the meeting that finally happened. And he never said a discouraging thing about him. Come to think about it, neither did I. And frankly, that's a little surprising.
I've told friends recently that in my fantasy life, my Ex and I have lunch together. We sit at some great outdoor table, share a bottle of Soave and say, "Wasn't that a wild ride? Wow, we were young then." Then we clink glasses.
Wouldn't it be nice if we could be that civilized? It would actually be very Noel Coward, which I know would probably tickle us both.
Showing posts with label gay pride. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gay pride. Show all posts
Monday, July 1, 2013
Monday, June 13, 2011
Gay Pride: The Recap
Earlier in the week I had gotten a phone call from my friend Steve asking me if I was going to Gay Pride this year. For me, it was a loaded question. I had spent the past five Gay Prides in LA with my ex-boyfriend. We went to our friend Jerry's brunch, we went out and usually lost each other a few hours later, then sent crazy texts back and forth and ended up reconnecting either at home or out.
Now thinking about it: Why would I even be nostalgic about that?
The hangover the next day was horrific and I'd feel all sorts of regret. But this is what I knew for five years. So when Steve asked me if I was going, I said that I would only go if he and his boyfriend were going. I didn't want to go alone. He agreed that we would all go together. I felt secure with that. I didn't want to run into the old crew by myself.
Then yesterday, we made plans to meet up around 4. I went and worked out, did my pre-pride pump workout so I would look extra muscley...because I knew if I ended up shirtless listening to Top 40 remixes on a dance floor, that I wanted to be ready to go. Also, I wanted to look hot in case I ran into the ex or one of his friends who could tell the ex how hot I looked.
I was done with my workout by 2 and I had time to kill. But instead I decided that I would go out by myself and when the guys came out, I'd just meet them somewhere. It started to occur to me that I was placing way too much importance on whether or not I'd run into the ex. I could still have fun by myself. I never used to have a problem going out alone, so why now? So I found a great parking spot, walked up the street and headed into the belly of the beast.
Well, it wasn't 15 minutes that I was out when I ran into my friend Tim, who's an ex-boyfriend of my ex's best friend. He was meeting his friends out at Eleven, a big gay bar on the main drag. So I went with him, we caught up a bit about how immature ex-boyfriends can be and met up with his friends. The friends were drunk and silly. Someone handed me a drink and we were on our way to the LASC party, which coincidentally was the party I was at on Halloween when the seeds of the break up were planted. I figured why not go back to the scene of the crime.
Well, we couldn't get into the party. Someone was going to try and get eight of us in. I felt like I was in my early 20s again, trying to get into some frat party or something. And that's not a bad thing. So the group kind of splintered off. Tim and his new boyfriend decided to go home. I decided to head back towards the action.
As I was walking, watching all of the leather daddies holding hands, the pair of stilt walkers, the groups of friends in their rainbow boas for their first Gay Pride...I felt a bit alone again. So I headed into Here Lounge, which was the only bar that didn't have a huge line to get in. I got a beer and looked around at all of the friends who were there together. As I was doing my fifth loop around the bar, I saw a couple of familiar faces in the VIP area...
Bethenny Frankel and Jason Hoppy.
Not that I KNOW Bethenny and Jason personally, but I'm addicted to BETHENNY EVER AFTER...I've even written about them on this blog. But they were kind of huddled in the back of their roped off area...I'm not sure if they knew any of the people they were with. And part of me wanted to go up to them just so they could try to introduce me to Andy Cohen, who I believe was in town for Pride.
But my next thought was to wait for my friend Steve to meet me and then we could go up and talk to Bethenny and Jason together. Steve said he was on his way.
I went back outside to the patio. Then this really cute young kid grabbed me and said, "Oh my God, hi Eric!" He turned to his friend and said, "My brother went to school with him!" I had no idea who this kid was. "It's Nick! Carlo's brother!" Still...no clue. But the blond kid he was talking to was HOT. But he was Nick's straight roommate, who eventually spent the rest of the afternoon shirtless. Even though he was worried that guys would be hitting on him. He couldn't have been that worried.
Then I realized that yes, I did know Nick and his very handsome brother Carlo who I did West Side Story with in college. I smoked cigarettes and chatted with Nick and his friends for a bit and then I saw someone I knew a few feet from me.
It was Jason, who was the host at Cecconi's and then moved onto Soho House. The ex and I spent a lot of time at Cecconi's and then he became a member at Soho House after we broke up. He was with Karen, another employee at both establishments. Well, they were happy to see me and they had since left the company entirely and started off on new adventures. Karen cut off all of her hair and died it platinum blonde. She looked like Agnus Deen.
Then Steve texted me and said the lines were too long and he was going back home.
So I hung out with Jason and Karen...we ran into another Cecconi's friend, an adorable brit I've always had a crush on named Craig. He was with his boyfriend and their friends. And I wasn't alone any more.
I had taken my shirt off...I was feeling free. I no longer cared if I ran into the ex. Or his friends. Or anyone who knew him or us when we were an US. Jason said that he was happy to see that I was fully experiencing myself as my own person. That it sounded like I had taken off on this new adventure. Then he told me he was going to meet friends of his that he was in RENT in a few months ago. Then we talked about my play reading coming up. He asked me if I was an actor and I told him that I was actually a playwright. Then he said, "Oh my God. I had no idea. We just opened up a whole new area of things to talk about and have in common."
Yeah, I thought. I just shared with you a major part of who I am. I'm no longer in the shadow. It's awfully cold in that shadow and you can't have your shirt off when you're in the shadow. The light was definitely shining on me.
And I realized something else...I haven't been in the shadow for a long time. I didn't need to be worried that I was going to run into the ex. I didn't need to worry about coming out by myself. And the fact that my friends, who I thought I needed emotional support from, didn't show up didn't even matter. This person that I have been trying to be or been wanting to turn into...that person always existed, first of all. And secondly, I came out of the cocoon a long time ago.
I started talking to this lovely woman named Heather, who was friends with Nick, who seemed to know everyone. We ended up getting on the ex-boyfriend tip and discussed all of the issues at play in the break up. And this very glamourous, fashionable woman looked at me and said...
"Well, you look like you're over it. You seem like a sweet guy, you've got a great body..."
I must have given her a look because she then added:
"You can tell that you work at it." And I simply said "Thank you."
I know I should always know these things about myself, that the affirmations should come from within, but I don't always see it until a complete stranger makes a comment like that.
And that body came from hard work. It meant that I had been focusing on myself for the past seven months. And she noticed that. Not just the body, but the healing that's been going on and she acknowledged that in that one statement. And I couldn't have gotten a complement like that if I hadn't come out by myself, trusted I would have fun and felt good enough to take my shirt off.
So thank you, Heather. I will most likely never see you again, but thank you.
We eventually ended up back at Eleven where we arranged to meet up with some of Jason's and Karen's friends.
I went to the bar to get us some beers. While I was there, I noticed a cute blonde guy with a green t-shirt on. Rugged, handsome and waiting to place a drink order as well. He offered his hand and introduced himself as Lee. He made some small talk about how sticky the floor was and then said he would be out in the back area with his friends. We said "Happy Pride" and he went on his way. It wasn't until I had gotten home later that night that I realized that maybe he wanted me to come to the back area and say hi.
But that's not what yesterday was about. I was fine. Chatting it up with Jason and Karen. Talking to their friends...one last smoke break and pep talk from Jason telling me that I had to let my ex go. I couldn't be a caretaker any more. And even though I know that, it was nice to hear it from someone who knew us when we were an US, but who wasn't one of my ex's inner circle. Jason shared with me that he had to start over after he broke up with his ex because they all had the same friends. Jason had met this guy right after moving to LA.
And that's exactly what I was doing. Starting over. Establishing my new circle. I just became a member of a group called The Playwrights Union. I have my cast and director for my reading. I have some old friends. I'm seeing my high school classmates this weekend...I'm doing this on my own. And I couldn't be happier because I know that people are seeing me for a change.
And isn't that what the past seven months have been about? This blog, this journey, these reflections?
So sorry, no stories of making out with hot guys or blackouts this year. But I guess that's appropriate because I'm not running away from anything this year. I'm not trying to escape.
I'm fine right here.
Now thinking about it: Why would I even be nostalgic about that?
The hangover the next day was horrific and I'd feel all sorts of regret. But this is what I knew for five years. So when Steve asked me if I was going, I said that I would only go if he and his boyfriend were going. I didn't want to go alone. He agreed that we would all go together. I felt secure with that. I didn't want to run into the old crew by myself.
Then yesterday, we made plans to meet up around 4. I went and worked out, did my pre-pride pump workout so I would look extra muscley...because I knew if I ended up shirtless listening to Top 40 remixes on a dance floor, that I wanted to be ready to go. Also, I wanted to look hot in case I ran into the ex or one of his friends who could tell the ex how hot I looked.
I was done with my workout by 2 and I had time to kill. But instead I decided that I would go out by myself and when the guys came out, I'd just meet them somewhere. It started to occur to me that I was placing way too much importance on whether or not I'd run into the ex. I could still have fun by myself. I never used to have a problem going out alone, so why now? So I found a great parking spot, walked up the street and headed into the belly of the beast.
Well, it wasn't 15 minutes that I was out when I ran into my friend Tim, who's an ex-boyfriend of my ex's best friend. He was meeting his friends out at Eleven, a big gay bar on the main drag. So I went with him, we caught up a bit about how immature ex-boyfriends can be and met up with his friends. The friends were drunk and silly. Someone handed me a drink and we were on our way to the LASC party, which coincidentally was the party I was at on Halloween when the seeds of the break up were planted. I figured why not go back to the scene of the crime.
Well, we couldn't get into the party. Someone was going to try and get eight of us in. I felt like I was in my early 20s again, trying to get into some frat party or something. And that's not a bad thing. So the group kind of splintered off. Tim and his new boyfriend decided to go home. I decided to head back towards the action.
As I was walking, watching all of the leather daddies holding hands, the pair of stilt walkers, the groups of friends in their rainbow boas for their first Gay Pride...I felt a bit alone again. So I headed into Here Lounge, which was the only bar that didn't have a huge line to get in. I got a beer and looked around at all of the friends who were there together. As I was doing my fifth loop around the bar, I saw a couple of familiar faces in the VIP area...
Bethenny Frankel and Jason Hoppy.
Not that I KNOW Bethenny and Jason personally, but I'm addicted to BETHENNY EVER AFTER...I've even written about them on this blog. But they were kind of huddled in the back of their roped off area...I'm not sure if they knew any of the people they were with. And part of me wanted to go up to them just so they could try to introduce me to Andy Cohen, who I believe was in town for Pride.
But my next thought was to wait for my friend Steve to meet me and then we could go up and talk to Bethenny and Jason together. Steve said he was on his way.
I went back outside to the patio. Then this really cute young kid grabbed me and said, "Oh my God, hi Eric!" He turned to his friend and said, "My brother went to school with him!" I had no idea who this kid was. "It's Nick! Carlo's brother!" Still...no clue. But the blond kid he was talking to was HOT. But he was Nick's straight roommate, who eventually spent the rest of the afternoon shirtless. Even though he was worried that guys would be hitting on him. He couldn't have been that worried.
Then I realized that yes, I did know Nick and his very handsome brother Carlo who I did West Side Story with in college. I smoked cigarettes and chatted with Nick and his friends for a bit and then I saw someone I knew a few feet from me.
It was Jason, who was the host at Cecconi's and then moved onto Soho House. The ex and I spent a lot of time at Cecconi's and then he became a member at Soho House after we broke up. He was with Karen, another employee at both establishments. Well, they were happy to see me and they had since left the company entirely and started off on new adventures. Karen cut off all of her hair and died it platinum blonde. She looked like Agnus Deen.
Then Steve texted me and said the lines were too long and he was going back home.
So I hung out with Jason and Karen...we ran into another Cecconi's friend, an adorable brit I've always had a crush on named Craig. He was with his boyfriend and their friends. And I wasn't alone any more.
I had taken my shirt off...I was feeling free. I no longer cared if I ran into the ex. Or his friends. Or anyone who knew him or us when we were an US. Jason said that he was happy to see that I was fully experiencing myself as my own person. That it sounded like I had taken off on this new adventure. Then he told me he was going to meet friends of his that he was in RENT in a few months ago. Then we talked about my play reading coming up. He asked me if I was an actor and I told him that I was actually a playwright. Then he said, "Oh my God. I had no idea. We just opened up a whole new area of things to talk about and have in common."
Yeah, I thought. I just shared with you a major part of who I am. I'm no longer in the shadow. It's awfully cold in that shadow and you can't have your shirt off when you're in the shadow. The light was definitely shining on me.
And I realized something else...I haven't been in the shadow for a long time. I didn't need to be worried that I was going to run into the ex. I didn't need to worry about coming out by myself. And the fact that my friends, who I thought I needed emotional support from, didn't show up didn't even matter. This person that I have been trying to be or been wanting to turn into...that person always existed, first of all. And secondly, I came out of the cocoon a long time ago.
I started talking to this lovely woman named Heather, who was friends with Nick, who seemed to know everyone. We ended up getting on the ex-boyfriend tip and discussed all of the issues at play in the break up. And this very glamourous, fashionable woman looked at me and said...
"Well, you look like you're over it. You seem like a sweet guy, you've got a great body..."
I must have given her a look because she then added:
"You can tell that you work at it." And I simply said "Thank you."
I know I should always know these things about myself, that the affirmations should come from within, but I don't always see it until a complete stranger makes a comment like that.
And that body came from hard work. It meant that I had been focusing on myself for the past seven months. And she noticed that. Not just the body, but the healing that's been going on and she acknowledged that in that one statement. And I couldn't have gotten a complement like that if I hadn't come out by myself, trusted I would have fun and felt good enough to take my shirt off.
So thank you, Heather. I will most likely never see you again, but thank you.
We eventually ended up back at Eleven where we arranged to meet up with some of Jason's and Karen's friends.
I went to the bar to get us some beers. While I was there, I noticed a cute blonde guy with a green t-shirt on. Rugged, handsome and waiting to place a drink order as well. He offered his hand and introduced himself as Lee. He made some small talk about how sticky the floor was and then said he would be out in the back area with his friends. We said "Happy Pride" and he went on his way. It wasn't until I had gotten home later that night that I realized that maybe he wanted me to come to the back area and say hi.
But that's not what yesterday was about. I was fine. Chatting it up with Jason and Karen. Talking to their friends...one last smoke break and pep talk from Jason telling me that I had to let my ex go. I couldn't be a caretaker any more. And even though I know that, it was nice to hear it from someone who knew us when we were an US, but who wasn't one of my ex's inner circle. Jason shared with me that he had to start over after he broke up with his ex because they all had the same friends. Jason had met this guy right after moving to LA.
And that's exactly what I was doing. Starting over. Establishing my new circle. I just became a member of a group called The Playwrights Union. I have my cast and director for my reading. I have some old friends. I'm seeing my high school classmates this weekend...I'm doing this on my own. And I couldn't be happier because I know that people are seeing me for a change.
And isn't that what the past seven months have been about? This blog, this journey, these reflections?
So sorry, no stories of making out with hot guys or blackouts this year. But I guess that's appropriate because I'm not running away from anything this year. I'm not trying to escape.
I'm fine right here.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
My Gay Pride
I'm proud that when I was a child I went to go see WITHOUT YOU I'M NOTHING, the screen adaptation of Sandra Bernhard one woman show with my best friend at the Beverly Center and being the youngest people in the theatre BY FAR.
I'm proud that I was that hip...and that if I represent any guard, it's the old guard. The literate, classy, witty and wise gays. Not the pectoral gays. Not the botox gays. Not the sch-mays (as in gay, schmay). However, I am VERY proud to represent the gays who like Chimay. I mean, who doesn't love a little bit of belgian beer to take the edge off once in a while with a clove cigarette and a smoky eye.
I'm proud that I know who Justin V. Bond is and that I went to see V a couple of months ago in LA. The gays who were at that performance...those are MY gays.
I'm proud that I was bullied as a kid and I lived to tell the story. And to spew some real shit on the horned, toad with a pus-filled asshole that is homophobia.
I'm proud that I'm pretty, angry, clever, delicious, fiery and articulate.
I'm proud that I've got the body and the brains. Because my chest is ironic. My quads are symbols of satire. My core muscles have multiple layers of meaning. My biceps are social commentary of the times we live in. My P90-triple x body is not what it seems.
I'm proud to be a Downey-raised, East Village gay who's now living in LA and listens to KCRW, goes to MoCA, LACMA and gets lost in the art, in the music...and stays tapped in.
I'm proud to be a member of the family of Oscar Wilde, Michaelangelo, Armistead Maupin, Edward Albee, Tony Kushner, Alexander McQueen, Tom Ford, and all of those cultural fathers who have given birth to beauty, art and culture that have made this world a more accepting, far-reaching, bigger, and better place.
I'm proud to be an artist and a someone who comments on everything. I'm proud to have something to say. Something to believe in. And something to fight for.
So if I end up going down to LA Gay Pride 2011 in West Hollywood today, that is my own personal private parade that I will be marching in.
I'm proud that I was that hip...and that if I represent any guard, it's the old guard. The literate, classy, witty and wise gays. Not the pectoral gays. Not the botox gays. Not the sch-mays (as in gay, schmay). However, I am VERY proud to represent the gays who like Chimay. I mean, who doesn't love a little bit of belgian beer to take the edge off once in a while with a clove cigarette and a smoky eye.
I'm proud that I know who Justin V. Bond is and that I went to see V a couple of months ago in LA. The gays who were at that performance...those are MY gays.
I'm proud that I was bullied as a kid and I lived to tell the story. And to spew some real shit on the horned, toad with a pus-filled asshole that is homophobia.
I'm proud that I'm pretty, angry, clever, delicious, fiery and articulate.
I'm proud that I've got the body and the brains. Because my chest is ironic. My quads are symbols of satire. My core muscles have multiple layers of meaning. My biceps are social commentary of the times we live in. My P90-triple x body is not what it seems.
I'm proud to be a Downey-raised, East Village gay who's now living in LA and listens to KCRW, goes to MoCA, LACMA and gets lost in the art, in the music...and stays tapped in.
I'm proud to be a member of the family of Oscar Wilde, Michaelangelo, Armistead Maupin, Edward Albee, Tony Kushner, Alexander McQueen, Tom Ford, and all of those cultural fathers who have given birth to beauty, art and culture that have made this world a more accepting, far-reaching, bigger, and better place.
I'm proud to be an artist and a someone who comments on everything. I'm proud to have something to say. Something to believe in. And something to fight for.
So if I end up going down to LA Gay Pride 2011 in West Hollywood today, that is my own personal private parade that I will be marching in.
Proud...of what?
It's LA Pride. The parade is today.
Every year for the past five years, I would wake up and we would either walk or take a cab over to our friend, Jerry's house. Jerry has this big brunch every year.
At 9 AM. Funny. That's what time it is now.
The stage is set. Vodka drinks. The screen door on the balcony is open to watch the floats prepare to start on the journey West down Santa Monica Blvd. A bunch of friends gather together, getting their drink on early. Then at noon, they all walk down the parade route, to go cups in hand. Then they make it to O-Bar on their first stop. And that's where everyone loses each other.
Some walk ahead. Some stay behind. Some reconnect. Some go home to go to the bathroom and then fall asleep for hours because they're drunk by 1 PM. That would have been me or the ex. Then you wake up and go back out.
Lots of lost hours. Blackouts. Mystery makeout sessions. Frantic text messages:
"Where are you?"
"I'm here."
"Where are my pants?"
"ARRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!"
Well, I have to admit that part of me is nostalgic because it is always such a great party. And I like walking the streets and checking out the sights. I like that the gays are out roaming the streets of WeHo. But I don't miss the angry messages. And I don't miss the fact that my ex and I would spend hours away from each other. I think I liked it at the time because I felt like I could go out and roam free and make out with people. But if he was so terrific, wouldn't have I wanted to spend more time with him?
Last year, he practically had a party at our house without me. It's not like he texted me or missed me. And I guess I didn't really care either. Wow. It's funny the things you see a year later.
I might go down there later today, once things die down a bit and walk around with friends. It'll be fun...with friends. But not alone. I honestly don't want to run into him and "our friends" by myself. Any other day but today. But I could change my mind. I could just say fuck it and I'm going down there alone and I'll probably run into friends and be silly. It could be fun either way. We'll see.
But isn't it funny that on Pride day, I was always doing things that made me feel less than proud. That's the mad irony. That none of the gays get because we're not about irony these days. I want an ironic muscle gay. A satirical rainbow flag. But it's all a little too on the surface for my tastes.
Every year for the past five years, I would wake up and we would either walk or take a cab over to our friend, Jerry's house. Jerry has this big brunch every year.
At 9 AM. Funny. That's what time it is now.
The stage is set. Vodka drinks. The screen door on the balcony is open to watch the floats prepare to start on the journey West down Santa Monica Blvd. A bunch of friends gather together, getting their drink on early. Then at noon, they all walk down the parade route, to go cups in hand. Then they make it to O-Bar on their first stop. And that's where everyone loses each other.
Some walk ahead. Some stay behind. Some reconnect. Some go home to go to the bathroom and then fall asleep for hours because they're drunk by 1 PM. That would have been me or the ex. Then you wake up and go back out.
Lots of lost hours. Blackouts. Mystery makeout sessions. Frantic text messages:
"Where are you?"
"I'm here."
"Where are my pants?"
"ARRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!"
Well, I have to admit that part of me is nostalgic because it is always such a great party. And I like walking the streets and checking out the sights. I like that the gays are out roaming the streets of WeHo. But I don't miss the angry messages. And I don't miss the fact that my ex and I would spend hours away from each other. I think I liked it at the time because I felt like I could go out and roam free and make out with people. But if he was so terrific, wouldn't have I wanted to spend more time with him?
Last year, he practically had a party at our house without me. It's not like he texted me or missed me. And I guess I didn't really care either. Wow. It's funny the things you see a year later.
I might go down there later today, once things die down a bit and walk around with friends. It'll be fun...with friends. But not alone. I honestly don't want to run into him and "our friends" by myself. Any other day but today. But I could change my mind. I could just say fuck it and I'm going down there alone and I'll probably run into friends and be silly. It could be fun either way. We'll see.
But isn't it funny that on Pride day, I was always doing things that made me feel less than proud. That's the mad irony. That none of the gays get because we're not about irony these days. I want an ironic muscle gay. A satirical rainbow flag. But it's all a little too on the surface for my tastes.
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