Sunday, August 26, 2018

Next year, maybe next year.

 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.


Debra She Who Seeks said...

I hope next year you do go. If you volunteer with the Pride Committee, you'll have tasks or a job to do during the march and/or festival that will enable you to meet people while you're doing it.

Deedles said...

Being a shy homebody myself, there is nothing I can say that won't sound hypocritical. I hate parades no matter what they're for. That being said, next time whip out this post and remind yourself how you felt. Don't, I repeat, DON'T beat yourself up over this. Find something positive to do. Chin up! The sun will come out tomorrow, so you gotta hang on 'til tomorrow, come what maaaaay! Just put on a happy face.
I'm going to bed now.

Scott said...

Put one foot in front of the other. Lesson learned. Make sure next year you go. But don’t beat yourself up about it now. Live life now.

Richard said...

Adding to what Scott wrote. As Liz Taylor said, “You just do it. You force yourself to get up. You force yourself to put one foot before the other, and God damn it, you refuse to let it get to you. You fight. You cry. You curse. Then you go about the business of living. That’s how I’ve done it. There’s no other way.”

Old Lurker said...

Listen to the Duchess Deedles. Don't beat yourself up over this. That's our job.

As penance, this year you are going to attend the Inside Out film festival: .

Next year, you are going to listen to Debra and volunteer with the Pride committee in some capacity. Since you will have supposedly sold the farm by then it will be a good excuse for you to get out of your cramped, overcrowded, overpriced apartment with no chickens, no bunnies and no garden chores to distract you.

Michael said...

As I read your post, I saw myself in you because I am the same way when it comes to things like this. Don't beat yourself up about it though, it only makes things worse.