Never Going To Leave You

I really can’t quit you, personal blogging. I get to do my most favourite activity: talk about myself at length without being interrupted by someone else. Shut up and publish all my terrible posts, blogger dot com.

I remember when I started blogging in December 2007. I was such a different person at that time. For one, I was only ugly fat and not morbidly obese like the present. Second, I wrote things here I couldn’t even admit to myself (eg: I liked British sitcoms! BUT BUT THEY WERE RACIST TO US TILL 1947?).

And of course, there was the community. I “met” a lot of people through the blog. Some, I’m still in touch with. Some I’m friends with. Some got freaked out by something I said and vice-versa. Some are lost in the past. Some have disappeared into the abyss of the internet. Some are getting married to their version of the anti-christ. It’s all good.

I hate to use these words because, REALLY?, but blogging also helped me to find a little bit of who I am. Turns out I wasn’t the broken shell of a human being being who was dead inside and wasn’t able to feel any emotion whatsoever. In reality, I was a broken shell of a human being who was dead inside and wasn’t able to feel any emotion whatsoever who also likes to write sentences who only he finds amusing! WHO’DA THUNK IT?

Nowadays, even though I do most of my blogging in my diary - because even I’m not that narcissistic to put so many banal things on the internet - it always feels good to come back here.

* * *

I can’t believe I actually wrote the words I’m not afraid to be real in the last post. Ugh. Who am I? A contestant on MTV Road Rules? Such a fucking drama queen! What’s next? Shouting I’m not here to make friends! to random people on the street? (To be fair, I did say that once to a dick co-trainee during the second week of my first job so that wouldn’t be such a stretch. Can’t believe I was in denial about being gay at that time. I mean, HELLOOO!).

* * *

Also, writing more blogposts in one week than I have written in three years? If it was still 2012 I would have made an ‘ARMAGEDDON MUST BE NIGH’ joke.

This is How We Say Goodbye

Hi!

Hey, welcome back! How have you been?

Good, good. What about you?

I’ve been good too. What’s going on?

Nothing much. Remember when I texted you from ____ that I had something to tell you?

Yeah . . . .

Well, the thing is, I’m getting married. To a girl!

Umm, congratulations?

* * *

It didn’t upset me that you were marrying someone else, cause I got over you a long time ago.

It didn’t upset me that you didn’t reply to my questions when I asked you if you were dating somebody.

It didn’t upset me that you didn’t tell me about such a big decision about your life that you made twelve months ago and yet only told me nine days before the fact because you wanted to tell me in person so that you could – what you imagined – see the pain on my face and were reasonably upset when there wasn’t any.

I found the fact that you expected me to attend your sham wedding quite hilarious.

And don’t worry “buddy,” you didn’t change me a bit. Just because I let you in and got burned doesn’t mean that my next experience will be be affected by it.

I’m not afraid to be real, anymore.

You are.

It’s that sort of a day when you continue to listen to a song on repeat. Not just because you are too lazy to do something about it, but because you want to wrap yourself in the familiarity.

It’s that sort of a week in which you wonder how things you never imagined could happen to you actually happen.

It’s that sort of month which fills you with both excitement and anticipation.

It’s that sort of a year which feels like you are living someone else’s life and any minute now you will  snap out of it and then everything will go back to as it were before.

You still cannot really fathom what is going on in your life.

So you sit there and wonder, is this really you?

Some things are not over even after the fat lady has sung!

I thought I wouldn't write any more posts about 'coming out' cause I am so over it. I assumed that I had left those days behind in 2009.

However, one day while watching something on the telly, it dawned on me that I would be 'coming out' (advertently/inadvertently) for the rest of my life so why not.

I would be coming out everytime I meet someone new and they ask me about my girlfriend (this is why I simply don't like meeting new people). I would be coming out everytime one of my "friends" on facebook read the favourite music' (Gaga + Glambert among other things) section on my profile and put two and two together. I would be coming out to complete strangers when they see me cavorting with my future boyfriend (who I think will probably always remain hypothetical. But that's a whole another post.) in public.

And that is fine by me. I made my peace with that a long time ago.

It would have been easier if I had a youthful gayface like David Archuleta, but nobody's perfect, I guess.

I had told my sister a few weeks after I told my Dad. There wasn't a lot of drama there, she just said that she just wanted me to be happy. She told my bro-in-law last week. So that completes all the adults in my family.

But to me the big one was my brother, who I happen to casually come out to a few months ago. I finally spelled it out for him and confirmed his worst fears. 

I told him that I don't like teh vajayjay (I call it that not because I can't say V_g__a, but because lady reproductive parts gross me out. No offense, I'm sure all you ladies out there must find it useful, say for holding a pen or twittering or something).

To say he was shocked is sort of an understatement.

However, the whole thing took an unexpected turn.

I was expecting accusations, anger and animosity.

I got none of that.

He was pretty nice about it.

Him and me actually sat down and had a long conversation about it. On top of that, he wanted me to tell him all the details (like since when I have known etc.).

For a while, he was just my big brother!

It was like I was eight again and he was warning the mean fifteen year olds down the street that if they bully me they would have to deal with him or I was in school and he personally drove me to my exam centre instead of letting me take the driver because he knew how nervous I was and would probably throw up on the way and would appreciate having someone familiar tell me that it;s going to be okay. Or he was the same guy who was surprised that his 'little' teenage brother was buying Eminem CDs which had an 'explicit lyrics' warming on the jacket.

So it was perhaps our most adult conversation ever. I told him about my boy crushes. managed to explain the term 'fag hag' to him and even discussed my idea of the future with him.

When I said to him that one day I would move away and leave everyone else in peace so that they don't have to deal with the consequences of me wanting to be who I am, he actually got angry and told me that I was stupid to think that and just because I am gay he or anyone else in the family would love me any less. And that I am still the same brother he's always had, except with a little bit more metaphorical glitter!

To say that I was flabbergasted would be an understatement.

Ever since I've known that I was gay, even back when I was in denial, I use to try to push my family away. I sort off convinced myself that I was doing it for them, so that it would eventually make it easier for them to forget me. However, that was me, trying as always, to make things easier for me.

I can't even begin to describe how wrong I was. However, they couldn't have been more understanding And it makes my heart break that I used to think that they would have been anything but.

I'm not the easiest person to like. But, somehow, my family has been doing it for all these years. And will continue to do it, despite my best efforts.

I know that a larger battle looms ahead. However, the freedom to be me ALL the time, not having to hide who I am from the people closest to me, is a precious gift that I’m glad to have.

So here I am, closing the door to my closet from the outside, thinking of the long time it took for this day to come, and then wondering what all the fuss was about!

Blog protocol requires that I put the word 'random' somewhere in the title . . .

. . . but fuck blog protocol (I really need to start using another profanity. I'm not Kathy Griffin at NYE, for crying out loud).

I finally sat through When Harry met Sally and saw it at one go. *Spoiler Alert* - They do end up together. Whoopti-fucking-do. Damn straight people. They have it so easy. All they need to is to start hating someone and voila!, they end up spending the rest of their life with that person. Why in the blue hell do gay people love this movie? I guess that's because all of us need some sort of myth to believe in. Like Brangelina. Or the secret of the universe hidden inside Lady Gaga's magic peen.

* * *

Speaking of stupid things people believe in, is it me or everyone is getting married this season? About four different sets people I went to school with choose to spend eternity with each other's cooties. Some were even younger than I am.

I usually try to avoid weddings like the plague that they are, but since a few of these people were my drinking buddies and a few of them might be useful for a few (future) cheap laughs, I sorta went along.

Everybody had an average of four large dinner parties. I can never understand why people have so many do's when they are getting married. It's like their telling the world, We're going to spend the rest of our forlorn miserable existence together. We would like you and everybody else we know to believe that we are good, monogamous people, even though one of us looks like a whore. So come celebrate with us and stuff yourself with so much food that you need to loosen your belt buckle. Also, we make so much money that we can afford to feed a thousand people some pseudo-exotic fruit which, let's pretend, came from some exotic country. Now shut your pie hole and eat something.

If I were straight, I would have actually run off and got married in Vegas or something. But hey, it's your money. If you want to spend it feeding more than a thousand ungrateful souls, half of whom are jealous and the other half just pretending to like you, then please go ahead. Who am I to judge?

Although, I did get to meet some people I went to school with and laugh at their sad little existence. One of them had a really nice and interesting wife. If I wasn't so gay, I would've hit that. Too bad she's married to that insufferable old coot. I'm pretty sure she's going to become a cougar in twenty years.

* * *

I think I might have a small crush on the Baskin Robbins delivery guy. Well, at least that explains the freezer full of uneaten tubs of ice-cream in this arctic winter we've been having. They really DO have 31 flavours, ya know? Pretty neat. Coming back to the guy, he's smart, educated and does not take any tips. It's against "company policy". Geez. What a dork! Just take the money and drop your pants, you fool.

Sigh. Porn movies make it look so easy. (Not that I would know. I heard it from one of my ..ummm.. friends.)

Why does the sort-of-romantic part of my life always involve food in one way or the other? I think I have issues. Freud would have a field day. Thankfully, that mofo is dead.

No, I don't know anything about psychology. I accidentally read up on him a few years ago on wikipedia while I was aimlessly surfing the interwebs.

I was at work at that time. What else was I supposed to do?

* * *

This is what happens when you listen to Alanis Morissete while you are high!

I'm probably going to gain more weight than I lose, for the rest of the year I'm probably going to be be feeling like that person who goes to pick someone up at the airport and waits till all the passengers depart only to find out that the person he was waiting for did not even board the plane and I'm probably going to have my last remaining hopes and dreams crushed by reality . . .

. . . but you know what?

Fuck being a jaded cynical asshole.

Fuck having zero expectations from life.

Fuck not trying to look for happiness in material things.

Fuck reality.

Fuck not trying to fill that void with alcohol and great food.

Fuck not trying to be suspicious of people who are nice to you for no reason.

Fuck trying to connect with people with whom the only things to talk about happened a decade ago.

Fuck worrying about the past or the future.

Fuck second guessing yourself.

Fuck being a curmudgeonly old pessimist.

What I mean to say is,

HAVE A GREAT FUCKING NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!!

xoxo