What If

Working in the local hospital setting, I get to meet people from all walks of life. Transexual streetwalkers and tightlipped nuns share drinks from the water dispenser. Local hoodlums stare balefully at their teachers from across the corner. Caught up in the intensity of work, I tend to hastily dismiss these poignant little vignettes of our society in favour of saving a life - but tend to shelve them in my rapidly deteriorating memory for later perusal. Occasionally a familiar face brings a flash from the past.

Friends that we make from childhood tend to stay fresh in our memory - yeah, even in my blighted brainbox. Perhaps it's something inherent in the sweet, innocent friendships we make before we develop that thick, prickly shell of adulthood. Juvenile naivete allows us to present our various warts and faults to their perusal without fear of reprisal. Well, at least that's how it works for me :)

I have to admit I've changed since my schooldays, learnt a whole lot of myself, picked up a heap of confidence, gained more than a few pounds and gotten a helluva lot of red in my hair.

Although more than a decade has passed since I last talked to Daredevil Dan, it seemed almost like yesterday. Friendly sort that I am, I dragged him off for a spot of tea. The rough, brash schoolboy with the tough talk and the bruise on his chin from his latest fight had somehow turned into a respectable family man while I wasn't looking. Instead of the foul words that used to pepper his salty language, he spent the time describing his childrens' tribulations in primary school and his earnest wish that they study hard.

Damn. For a brief moment, I felt as close to being a failure as I ever did - and felt alarmingly close to hyperventilating. Seriously, what did I have to show for my years of study and work? Almost nothing. Sure, the shallow material things were there - the house, the car, the clothes - but things like that didn't fulfil my desperate housefrau needs. Somehow as the years go by, I find myself drifting farther away from the childish dreams I had when I was still playing mindless pranks on Dan back in school. No partner to share my dinners with - and to have silly food fights over the most trivial arguments. No children driving me crazy with their repeated inquisitiveness.


Dammit I should be this guy here! Then again what am I saying, I want to be WITH that guy!
As he rattled on about his wife's woes, Dan was obviously not privy to the fact that I was suffering from a nervous breakdown - and close to collapsing onto my Earl Grey, spilling the contents on his leather shod feet.

Serious whining ahead. Look away if you're allergic. :)

Later as I searched through my blog furiously, I found that my dating log for the year is seemingly George Costanza pathetic. Only four men have made my personal Blue List this year, all with varying degrees of commitment. One wouldn't commit. One is too far away to commit to any sort of relationship. One is having too many problems of his own to commit ( and might be committed at this rate unfortunately ). One is practically forcing me to commit murder with his gay-vagueness.

Seriously. Surely there are good men somewhere out there but the men I know suck - and not in a good way. :) Have I been shortchanged by being a fag?