You're Not One of Those Sentimental Fags...

...but after your horrible experience in Fort Lauderdale you have absolutely no energy for any emotions whatsoever. After Hairy Potter's paranoid delusions put you out on the street, you spent one of the worst nights of your life sleeping it off at the Delta Ticket Counter. Then you slept through the entire flight back to Laguardia, probably snoring the whole way, but when you finally get home you have never been so happy to schlep your thirtysomething years of baggage (along with your luggage) up six flights of stairs to your Home Sweet Hovel. Thankfully, your Hobosexual Roommate is away for the rest of the week visiting Who The Hell Cares in the lovely town of Who Really Gives A Shit. You, of course, go straight to bed so you can take a restless nap.

You know it's nothing you had any control over, but you are really freaked out by Hairy Potter's bizarre accusation that he saw you making out with That Black Guy In The Bathroom. All day you keep waiting for him to call and apologize, but it never happens. And even though you are thrilled that you will never have to see Hairy Potter again, you are also really sad. He was really upset with you, because he really thought something happened, and you almost feel like calling him up to explain your non-delusional version of the story. But you know it won't matter. Hairy Potter probably wouldn't even take your call, and what would you do then? Have an intervention with the perky, yet repetitive Voicemail Lady? Even though the whole situation is completely preposterous, it has really gotten you bummed out. Are all gay guys fucked up? Will you ever fall for someone who's just a nice, run-of-the-mill alcoholic like you? Or will you forever be surrounded by Crack Pipes and Eight Balls and Random Letters of the Alphabet like E, K and don't forget G, H & B, whilst being accosted by That Imaginary Black Guy In The Bathroom?

So you kind of do nothing all day beyond actively avoiding contact with the outside world while you nap and eat and eat and eat. Back off, Richard Simmons! You're depressed. The last thing you want to do is write a damn blog entry about how damn sorry you are for yourself (boo-hoo, everybody feels sorry for you!), but eventually you check your email and you find some of the nicest, most wonderful words from some nice gay boys who, for some unknown reason, like to read the narcissistic crap you write. A comment from a talented blogger named Jesse (Jesse On The Brink) makes you feel like your selfish pass-time is perhaps not as egotistical as you think, "Your stories make me feel less alone. And as far as I know, that's the only thing worth doing. Thank you!" And one email in particular from a Hot Latin boy named Jose really pulls at your heart-strings. And it actually gets your jaded gay ass a little bit veklempt, "I was feeling blue... In fact, I have been somewhat in a depressed mood the past several days; but then again, who doesn't? Upon stumbling on your blog, my curiosity lead me to reading it. I laughed most of the time, usually by the usage of nicknames and employment of smart wit used to convey your stories. Afterwards, I feel much better, and may even go out tonight and have dinner with a few friends. Thank you for writing, and I'll be looking forward to future postings." OMG someone quick, go get you a Softique before your mascara begins to run!

And that's when you realize that you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself! Your ridiculous shenanigans are actually amusing other people (god knows why, but they are...) and somehow the knowledge that your stories can help pull someone out of his funk, actually helps you pull yourself out of yours. Sometimes, even though you're so jaded and bitter from all of the ridiculous dates you go on, sometimes, when you least expect it, a gay boy will stop obsessing over Britney's Breakdown or whether or not to pay full price for those cute New Religion Jeans, and sometimes that gay boy will make you realize that all of us fags are basically just trying to make it through our live-long days, because in one way or another, we're all You. Even that delusional fuck, Hairy Potter. Anyway...