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    Yeah, I wanna be the queen of the USA / You could send me roses every other day

    Another Gay Republican is back to blogging interestingly about politics and, more importantly, has a clean-lined new site design. (Why are the boys in the back snickering about my priorities? Think about it: Two hundred years from now, will people still care whether some stadium was built in DC? Will they still care which shades of red and blue make the most pleasing combination against a dead-white background? Exactly. See how easy rational thought is when you just give it a little effort? Now stop with the sassing; you’re distracting me.)

    Not every gay guy who’s returning to modified versions of old behaviors is getting on my good side by doing it, unfortunately. I ran into a casual friend for the first time in months a few nights ago. As I always do when I meet guys who were single the last time I saw them and have had time to do something about it, I gave him the smirk and the question: “So, anything good to report?”

    When will I ever learn? Kaz is not, after all, an unknown hazard. He’s still getting over a man he was dating who ultimately decided that he was serious about someone else. The relationship lasted three-ish months and was broken off a year and a half ago.

    No, I didn’t accidentally reverse those numbers. Dude is now, with a shameless get-down-in-it moroseness that would embarrass Eeyore, into his eighteenth month of self-pity over a dating relationship that barely survived a financial quarter. So there I was last night, once again looking on in sympathy as eyes teared up and lines of the “I just still…you know?” variety were huskily uttered. What made it especially trying was that this week, a dear friend suffered the rather brutal break-up of a live-in relationship of several years. While he’s carrying it like a gentleman, he’s still in the very early raw stage when you lean on your buddies. Therefore, the weapons in my Gay Big Bro arsenal are kind of in use right now and not really available for people whose major problem is that they failed to notice that they flew over the International Get a Grip Line several months ago.

    But even without that unfortunate contrast, I mean, hello? You can’t help how hard and fast you fall. We all get the chance to be humiliated by unrequited desire. You give yourself time to regain your self-discipline. Then you exercise it, by faking sociability and an interest in flirting until the real thing comes back. It never works perfectly, at least at first, but it has to be better than spending 600% longer mourning a relationship than you did enjoying it. Better for yourself and, for the love of Cole Porter, those around you.

    Added on 12 February: Now that I think about it, I believe Deborah Harry sings that second line in the conditional mood.

    4 Responses to “Yeah, I wanna be the queen of the USA / You could send me roses every other day”

    1. Alan says:

      Several months ago? Isn’t the grieving period for a three-month relationship like, 2 weeks, max?

    2. Sean Kinsell says:

      Well, man, everyone’s different. The heart wants what it wants, and if you’re really, seriously stuck on someone, you can’t fix that through sheer willpower. The problem I’m talking about is one of behavior. However you may feel, you don’t blubber at casual acquaintances about how much you miss some guy who never even became an official boyfriend and stopped seeing you a year and a half ago. It makes you look slightly unhinged. And you don’t NURSE the hurt by wrapping yourself up in it like a down comforter at every opportunity.

    3. Alan says:

      Sorry Sean, I wasn’t meaning to make light of your friend’s situation. Just agreeing with you – it seems a little silly to expect sympathy about a relationship that’s a year-and-a-half passed.

    4. Sean Kinsell says:

      No apology necessary. I was making light of it myself.

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