At peace with my Old age

So as everybody would be wondering, (or not, nobody reads this blog anyway), why the recent spate of dramatic, over-the-top, melancholy-infested posts?

Well, old age is upon us. No, we aren't filling for senior citizen benefits just yet, but we are proceeding towards a particular two digit numbers which, for gay men and struggling starlets, bring forth a feeling of sadness, despair, itchiness, claustrophobia and a general disappointment which makes you question the very point of your existence.

However, certain people (we call them fellow bloggers/friends/fag hags) in the world were (unfortunately for them) assigned to bring us back onto earth by the big, bad queer in the sky. (Yes, God is Gay ..... why else would he take weekends off? .. And he's also American ... no, don't panic ..... shit happens ..... deal with IT). So they succeed in their task and did help us postpone the path to imminent monk-ism. (No, not the one who sold his Ferrari. The one who actually abstains from heterosexual sex. Yes, Gay sex is allowed in monk-ism. You people know nothing. Hmph.)

So we kind of made peace with the fact that we are growing old. We liked that we would be somewhat respected (don't count on it), allowed to stand for office in our fair land (or was that last year?? Dunno. I can't tell you everything .. Some things you need to find out yourself .. Geez), and be able to refer to insolent 20 to 22 year olds as "young man" (though this makes us sound really creepy .. and I mean catholic priest creepy, so we have decided not to use it again unless some insolent young man pesters us), get to use words like aberrant and obstreperous and can look forward to accessing our trust funds in a few years time (though my Dad has assured me multiple times that the only way I could get any more money from him would be if I get off my butt and start working but I do not see that happening soon ... and my Dad appears to be really set in his decision and no amount of emotional blackmail has moved him to change his decision ... but I still won't give up ... I have a right to mooch of my parents .... No, you can't judge me on that. We all have a purpose in life, and that is mine.)

So we somehow came to the conclusion that being young again is not as hot as it is cracked up to be. I mean, most of my teenage memories consist of me being awkward and horny. And nothing much has changed since then. In fact the intensity of both the may have increased manifold.

So I'd rather be at this age, flushed with lots of wisdom to impart, armed with the knowledge that credit card bills cannot be mailed to Santa Claus & and being referred to as Sir, lord, your highness, when I enter a respectable establishment.

So to everyone out there who is wallowing in the pain and somewhat relief of being closer to the date of expiration, don't fret. All you need to feel better is some sort of Tequilla and a few DVD's of Dante's Cove. Trust me. It works wonders.

And all these factors helped me concur that everything just might work itself out in the end.

And if it doesn't, one is never late for monk-ism.