This morning I got up and it was pouring rain outside. Not a good day for a parade. I had these visions of chubby drag queens with rain soaked wigs plastered to their heads and mascara running down their faces. My cold sore had come back with a vengeance on Thursday and was pretty gross this morning. None of my new friends wanted to go to pride and there is nothing more lonely than being at pride alone. I know people will say go and meet people but the truth is, most people just want to hang out with friends, they are not interested in meeting new people, I didn't feel like standing there watching everyone else laughing and having a good time. I decided to give up and not go.
As usual I regretted not going, the sun came out right when the parade started, then the sky cleared up for the rest of the day. My festering face wound didn't look that bad later on. Like I usually do, I obsess over not wanting to go, then once I reach the point where it's too late to go, I obsess over wishing I went. I was thinking about my not going and my gay friends who live right there, they have no interest in taking part. I felt embarrassed when I saw interviews with parents who brought their children. They wanted to show support for the LGBTQ community and raise their children to be accepting. I, a gay man on the other hand, didn't support the event (tsk, tsk).
I was watching on the news the street festival they had afterwards, two streets were shut down for the event, this was for me, I should have been with my people. I should have taken part, I wanted to go, I always do that to myself, I'm not sure why. I always want to walk around and see if I meet anyone I know, I am always hoping for a surprise, any kind of a good surprise, even just a straight person I know being really supportive.
Next year, I always say next year I will go.