It’s my birthday today. I’m 22. Yeah, I know – one year closer to the hell fires of old age.
I’m a gay, you see. My people don’t like getting old.
If you’ve ever seen the now deceased gay-themed American series, Queer As Folk, you might have seen the s.1 episode where Brian Kinney (Gale Harold – who played Susan’s boyfriend in Desperate Housewives s.5), one of the main characters, turns 30. He freaks out and, viewing sexual promiscuity as his birth right, goes on a boinking rampage to get that last couple o’ hundred pre-30′s fuck-sessions in. He’s very handsome, so getting laid ain’t a problem.
Gale Harold... I'd do him.
The next morning (D-day) his friends burst into his place, drag him off to a funeral parlour and they promptly stuff him into a coffin. The scene ends with Brian himself closing the lid of the coffin. It’s a very disturbing (yet hilarious) scene.
This perfectly illustrates the fear of gay-ageing. Being young and gay may be fun but being old and gay isn’t very appealing.
Unless you’re sir Ian McKellen and can get toy boys to keep you company.
Like I said, I’m 22. In gay years that’s probably about 27. I only have a few more years left before I’m gay-old and have to accept the fact that I will die alone.
But I don’t particularly care about that. I like being alone. I’ve been single for about 21 months now. And that’s the way I like it.
I’m no Carrie Bradshaw. I don’t pine for a mr. Big to come save me (although I did like Burger).
Someone as pathetic as Carrie deserves to die a single, old hag. IMHO.
Thank Buddha I don’t have to worry about pesky romantic feelings.
I rarely get those. And when I do have ‘feelings’ for a guy, it’s physical, primal and urgent (read: lust).
And it never lasts.
I dated my last boyfriend for about four months. I was over the relationship within the first 3 weeks. But I didn’t break it off because he was a really nice guy. And his grandfather died early on in our relationship. Plus, he was majorly closeted which meant we didn’t see each other every day, even though we both lived in tiny (in comparison to Johannesburg) Stellenbosch at the time. Not seeing him often made it easier to be with him.
Also, while I (mostly) practice celibacy when I’m single (past experiences have taught me that casual sexual contact can bite you in the ass – sometimes literally), the opposite is true when I’m with a guy. So there was THAT that kept our relationship alive.
But sex only goes so far. Like our relationship, the break-up was pretty low key. We went our seperate ways and even though it wasn’t a bad break-up, we haven’t had any contact since.
I’m a loner by nature. I don’t like large crowds and sometimes I get annoyed with people when they want to talk to me (which is ironic since, as a journalist, I make my living getting people to talk to me).
I’ve technically lived alone since I was 17. I went to university and lived in a single room dorm. That counts as living alone, right? Straight after university I moved across the country for my job. Now I really live alone. Which is awesome.
But I miss having my mum and sisters around to clean up after me. Which is why I always milk the helplessness when I do go home. I’m so bad, I won’t eat at home unless either my mum or one of my sisters make me something to eat AND bring it to me. True story. I know, I’m awful.
But I digress.
I love the single life.
Like I said, people can easily annoy me. Boyfriends are even more annoying. I don’t like having that burden. You always have to explain yourself. And you have to work had at being a better person and boyfriend. So annoying. I don’t like putting that much effort into getting laid.
Which is why I haven’t had lots of relationships. Only two, to be honest. And the first one I kept secret from my friends, especially my only gay friend, who likes to blab.
This is not to say that I close myself off to relationships. I am open to it, I just won’t go out looking for one. If it happens, great (as long as it doesn’t last too long) and if it doesn’t, better still.
Independance is the key to my happiness. I’ve always believed relationships steal that from you.
In July my parents will celebrate their 25th anniversary. I’ve watched them over the years. They’ve had their (extremely) bad times and now they’ve moved onto their good times. That’s great for them.
But I remember the bad. I never want that.
And seeing my three siblings going from one unfulfilling relationship to the next doesn’t give me much hope for love. Also, I come from a very whorish family (and I’m actually talking about the men now – on my mother’s side).
I’m not a whore. I’m also not into romance or love or sickly sweet expressions of devotion.
I’m alone, though - as a friend correctly noted in a feature she had to write about me for one of our journalism classes last year - I’m not lonely.
Me ego is too big for me to ever be lonely.