Saturday, 9 May 2009

Anger

I love to people watch. But more than watching objects of desire I like to watch other people as they cast their own gaze over the beings they covet.

The was a man on the train tonight, Young, well proportioned. Perfectly suited to his perfect suit. Walking with such an easy confidence I immediately went right off him. As he got out of his seat to disembark I watched the lovely blonde woman standing in the doorway look him lovingly up and down. And I saw her face fall, so fractionally none but a careful watcher might have seen it, when he breezed past, so confident and suited, without a second glance.

I myself was seated quite far back, consumed with an anger far too great to really be based on yet another bad (not)date. My contempt for him, my pity for her, entirely unbecoming from a wretch like me!

Oh yes, I was very angry. The thing is: I know not quite why. I am so tired of dealing every day with people. People who, quite unconsciously, demonstrate that I’m not quite good looking enough; intelligent enough; nice enough; kind enough; rich enough or just damned anything enough.

There will always be someone better looking, dressed richer, more successful. Such is life. But I’m angry for intangible reasons that are so much greater yet. The flying buttresses of my mind supporting such a mighty cathedral of doubt, no less.

One of the reasons I delayed coming out for so long was the fear that I would, when searching for love, be confronted with the idea that I am fundamentally unlovable. Feel free to add not quite brave enough to the list, by the way. So I suppose I am angry I am not loved. Not unloved in the sense I have no friends. Far better friends have I than I deserve, and more precious to me than I can ever explain are they. And not ‘not loved’ in the sense of ‘not fucked’. Oh no, when it comes to sex it seems everyone wants second helpings…

A gay man who gives great blowjobs but talks out of his arse. There’s a joke in there (deep, deep down, perhaps) somewhere.

The thing is though, I refuse. I flatly refuse. To accept that I can’t have what I want. Perhaps I am merely angry that I need to work hard to get it. To lie in the bed I made being my obligation and my reward at the same time?

Silly tart that I am I don’t really mean to rant and rave. I feel much better already, and there remains much to discuss on this hallowed HTML. Is it a full moon? No? Well then, no need, I suppose, for more.

Yet when I mean to make a change it does occur that a change might be made so as to astonish the world…*

2 comments:

Nine said...

Undesirable truth #1: nobody and nothing is perfect, especially when it comes to relationships.

Undesirable truth #2: unfortunately, the more brains you have, often the more difficult it is to find happiness as the more you think your way out of it.

Undesirable truth #3: most hot guys on trains are terrible in bed...

Okay, so #3 may or may not be true, but hell, you don't need the lights on to give a damn good blowjob.

Mike said...

I suppose over analysing is a problem of mine; but being jack of all trades/master of none is fine in your 20s; not so much in your 30s - so there is the frustration of s steep learning curve.