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9:41 p.m. - January 24, 2004
I feel like Mr. Potato Head
The fallout continues: A nasty email labeling me a hater, Ryan II is hurt, Iím annoyed verging on nonchalance because the effort to determine causality exceeds interest, and on top of it all I feed pork to Jews though never to Twids because sheíd throw me into the deep end.

At root Iím a skeptic and cynical of idealism and the wisdom youíve accrued painfully is the salt I toss over my shoulder. It isnít that I disregard what you say but I need to find these things out on my own. Being out may work well for you but whoís to say my raft wonít be swamped by the tide lifting yours up? I mean come on, I donít fit in where I am now, why would I fit in on the gay lot? After all, Iím short, getting-fatter, ugly, canít dance, donít drink, am sexually inhibited the days Iím not sexually uptight, into organized religion, conservative, donít know anything about divas or musicals or why Friends of Dorothy means something. Iím doing things my way and that falls under heading: The Safe Route.

Ryan II is not the one for whom Iíll come out and upturn my life.

I want a reader, a thinker, someone who likes to walk and discover new things. Someone who isnít bitchy or puts down others to prop himself up. Quiet, but not as quiet as I. Who doesnít believe monogamy must be preceded with serial because he stops looking when paired up. Serious but with a fun side to balance out my seriousness and no-fun side unless he too considers it fun to get wet in the rain and climbing to the top of the hill to freeze just for the view. Who doesnít talk incessantly but doesnít need a pry bar to open up. Someone who laughs a lot like me, but for better reasons. Who doesnít seize upon my habits like a pop-psychologist on the loose: Why do you count things? Why do you organize things? Why do you not have closet doors? but likes me despite them, for them. Kind to friends, kinder to strangers, even Mormon missionaries at the door. Who enjoys travel not to resorts or plush cruises but the road trips to nowhere, even West Virginia though thereís not much there. Social, but not obsequious or preening. Who doesnít think Pottery Barn or Banana Republic for Men is nirvana. Someone kind to old dogs, patient and a softie at heart.

Digging deeper and deeper with ye olde trusty self-hate spade. Best quit for now.


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