Pouty

I’m in a bad mood today gentle reader. In fact so much so I am experiencing one of the vanishingly rare occasions when I would prefer to be someone else.

Last night I went out for a neighbour’s birthday. He is gay too as were virtually all of the people that were also out celebrating. On the one hand there was a really nice couple who were the loveliest people and really into each other; and on the other was a very tall, thin good looking guy who was bang up to date with fashion, knew how to accessorise perfectly, and looked a lot younger than he was. Making me a jealous bitch twice over.

After dancing the night away the lovely couple went home to be adoring and adorable at home; the good looking guy went home with a lot of other good looking guys and yours truly? Was too drunk to talk, and my neighbour and I got a taxi home.

Certainly everyone was drunk; but I thought about it today – in between bouts of cradling my sore head and wailing like a banshee somewhere on the autistic spectrum - and I realised I was essentially behaving like a straight bloke; I got drunk, danced like a prat, had a fracas with a guy hassling a lady at the bar, and didn’t 'go home' with a man. And I feel very disappointed in myself; that somehow I’ve let myself down.

Of course, I’m still learning the ropes at it were and in many respects all the experiences I’ve had over the last 6 months have been wonderful, or at least worthwhile. But I don’t like being made to feel (even by myself) that I am nowhere – or, more accurately, reminded that I’m not the tall thin good looking fashion and scene savvy gay guy OR part of a rock solid relationship. Is there perhaps some kind of course for the ill-adored and self-deluding that I am unaware of? Course as in study or medicine, I'm not fussed.

Then of course I feel selfish and stupid because other people overcome genuine adversity and I’ve never had a really tough time in my whole life. But sometimes it is really difficult to realise I’ve wasted so much time and the flip side of all the joyous highs I’ve had is that sometimes I get very down – desperately sad.

Still, I don’t suppose crying myself into a dessicated husk is going to help. I think it is nearly time to make up my mind about exactly what I want; apart from going back in time to me at 18, and smacking myself in the back of the head of course. Do I want to be one half of a loving couple or do I want to play around? I think I know the answer; I know I can't really do both.

What I want right now is for Gareth to be here and give me cuddles and tell me again that I’m cute.

Oh well, I’ll be resolute again tomorrow. In the meantime any man fitter and better looking than me can piss off.

Except Gareth.

PS: t'aint work safe