This Gay Boy Wants A Boyfriend
This gay boy wants a boyfriend. This gay boy doesn’t feel like taking another person home from da club whose body is caked in glitter. Every time I see an image of the lonely single gay best friend on TV, I hug my solitary dinner that much tighter. Is this simply a case of life imitating Will & Grace? If so, why is the media cockblocking me from finding a boyfriend? What the hell did I ever do to the execs at NBC?
This gay boy wants to belong to the exclusive club of gay men who are in long-term monogamous relationships. They live among us! They find their partner one day in a crowded room, nest together, and become each other’s mates for life. They pick out antique furniture together at flea markets, throw dinner parties, and become that amazing gay couple that everyone is envious of.
But how do you go from point Gay to point Monogamy? How do you navigate your way through a culture that reportedly doesn’t want relationships? They want Grindr, they want Craigslist, they want to be free. Is this even true though? Gay or straight. don’t we all just want somebody to love? Eventually you’ll have to want to leave the party, right?
This gay boy wants to find the peanut butter to his jelly. I want to go home to more than my DVR recording of Mildred Pierce and the new Panda Bear record. Is this owed to me? Is love owed to anyone? Yes, it’s owed to all of us. But finding love might be harder for gay men than for straight people. I can’t know this for certain, but it just feels this way. It just feels like there are a lot more sad older gay men putting around the internet looking for someone to be with for a few hours.
This gay boy is terrified of becoming an older gay man. Getting older is the pits no matter what in this society, but with gay men it’s even worse. You could potentially become what they refer to as, “a bitter old queen.” Sometimes I think of my fifty-something gay uncle in California who haunts his big mansion of a house, goes to movies alone, and trolls the internet for men, and I can’t help but get a little sad and sick. Is that my fate? Is that our fate?
There’s an unspoken race to end up in the arms of someone who’s willing to love you forever. On your mark, get set….
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At first, the silence of my life was nauseating and noticeable.
John F. Kennedy was assassinated in 1963. Some controversy ensued.
While living in Milan I developed a strong addiction to coffee. I blame the Italians. Damn you skilled barristers and your exceptional coffee beans!
Will it feel the same when you tell me you love me over the phone? Will the peacefulness of those words still floor me from thousands of miles away?