Screwed

Screwed

It's been a long day, and I don't feel like being witty. I don't feel like being snipey, snarfy, or half a dozen other things that my alter ego gay queen is so good at. I wonder if hyperactive gay boys are ever allowed to feel tired, and yet this one is going through just that phenomenon now. I feel hungry, as well.

So this is a tired post. The one where I look and hope that in ten years' time, my life is infinitely more settled than it is now. I would actually not like to wait the full ten years. Even a couple of them would suffice. I don't need to still be standing at the crossroads, still chatting in the chatrooms, still f*&%ing like a jackrabbit, still exchanging one-night stands, still bemoaning the lack of a love life. It's... tedious. Almost as tedious as being in love.

O, wait. Now, how would I know that?

Let me manage a weak smile now. A tired smile.

The funny part is this: I'm probably going to forget all this tomorrow morning. After I go home, have a bath, order take-out, switch on the music, curl up in bed with a book, and drift away to sleep, I shall wake up the next day late for work, as usual. There will be a whirlwind of activity the next day, which shall see my exercise my attempts at humour, I shall go on a date with a sweet young man in the evening in whom my interest has waned after the first date, and I shall come home slightly tipsy. Time for music and book again. Maybe, scratch the book. Just the music and bed will suffice. And I may tell myself now that I don't want to bring the boring young man back home to bed tomorrow, but something tells me I still probably will.

God, I sound pathetic. And whiny. And gay.

I guess now you understand why the green apple at the left has all those screws. ;-)