It disturbs me a bit that several friends and coworkers have suggested that I should get “paired off” again soon. I know they mean well, but really, ummm, no.
Seriously. NO.
I think anyone who’s known me a long time realizes that being a solo act is my natural state. This is not to say that friendship or sex is out, although the latter isn’t really seeming very appealing right now (and no one’s offering anyway). But romance or–Great Pumpkin forbid–a long-term relationship pretty much are out. Understand that Mark is a very special person and, I made a very special exception for him because it was what I wanted. The fact that he was so different inspired me to “break the rules”, which is why I was so quick to go completely exclusive, why I considered cohabiting for the first time ever, and why it hurt so incredibly much when it ended. I was not looking for a relationship in 2001 and I’m not looking for one now. I met a very specific person and that led to a very specific type of relationship that’s not likely to be replicated.
It’s not like going out and buying a new puppy when your dog dies. I don’t particularly want to “date” now. In fact, I never liked “dating” very much–I was more into “random fucking”–but the act of courtship and even the effort required to engage in it both seem about as appealing to me as an all-day MRI (and no one’s offering anyway).
Please don’t suggest that I sample the local “gay nightlife”. It consists of exactly one disco that doubles as a drag show venue a couple of nights a week. In short, it’s every Southern ghetto queer bar I ever hated in my twenties and thirties all wrapped up in a package that fills me with nothing but fatigue and a sense of impending doom now that I’m in my forties. Having spent a supremely miserable couple of hours in a smaller version of the same bar one Saturday night about six months ago, I can tell you that this scene appeals to me only slightly more than that vacation in Libya I’ve been dreaming of for so long.
I know your heart is in the right place, but please just be my friend and feed me unhealthy food or take me to a movie. Buy me a cute, young rentboy if you must. But please don’t tell me how you’d like to fix me up with your gay brother/cousin/friend with whom I probably have nothing in common and to whom I’m probably not even remotely attracted. And if you assume for some reason that I’m a “bear” or that I’m into that whole scene, please understand when I start growling at you. I’ve met a lot of new people in the past few years and I realize I’ve not made clear to many of you my whole philosophy on sexual orientation so I understand your confusion and I will try not to be my (naturally) crabby self. But I may fail once in a while.