Work has been hella busy (can I still say 'hella'?) all month and today was no exception. Only I take off at noon on Wednesday, so I can't really complain. Six hours and I'm gone. I grabbed a quick bite for lunch, some broccoli and a nice piece of fish. You have to say that last bit with your best Yiddish accent. C'mon, play along. Then I was off to the gym. I worked out HARD muthafuckas. Damned if I think I can actually get those abs I'm shootin' for, but I'm gonna die tryin'. I'm doing a whole body weight workout, emphasizing the gay muscles (pecs and delts and bis), natch, three to four days a week and then running three to four days a week. Plus abs. I'm tired just thinking of it. I was tired on my way home from the gym, too, but I picked up my groceries anyway. Veggies, fruit, chicken, fish, bean curd.....I sound fun, don't I?
OK, here's where I'm gonna Tarantino this story a little (Dane Cook fans, holla!). Let's go back a little. Four of five years ago there was this boy in the neighborhood who took a shine to me. He was ten or eleven at the time. He was a bright kid. Funny, articulate, friendly and always polite with adults and interested in talking to them. You know, gay. So anyway, he was always talking to me when I was working outside, sometimes to the detriment of my getting anything accomplished. Nice kid, like I said, but he could go on. I enjoyed talking to him, but eventually I'd have to cut him short by going inside. Until he started following me in. Eventually, he even started letting himself in. Whether I was home or not. I worried about this, not because I thought he'd steal something or break something, but what would you think of a 30 y.o. single man who had a ten year old coming in and out of his house? Well, before I had a chance to worry too long, his dad was transferred to another city and they were gone. Now, back in the present, I saw him today when I stopped for a doppio at the coffee house near the grocery. The family's moved back. He's doubled in size, an awkward and shy teenager now, but I recognized him instantly. He's plenty gay, too, as I thought. He's not so talkative anymore. He looks around furtively. He stares, then he blushes. The difference? Sure, maybe he's just being a teenager, but I think also it's that now he knows he's gay. Probably knows I am. He looks kinda sad. I wanted to tell him it's OK. I wanted to tell him there's nothing wrong with him. I wanted to give him a hug and say, "Hey buddy, don't make the mistakes I did. You just be gay!" But I didn't. I chatted him up for a few minutes, took my espresso, and left.