Chill

I really am a uncool. Seriously though. I'm a total tool.

i've never been one of the "cool people", probably because i use expressions like "cool people" and "tool" and put things with quotation marks. i'm not sure how it happened but i managed to miss every possible opportunity at being stylish and fabulous that could possibly be bestowed on someone. it's like i'm Sleeping Beauty and the fairies that were supposed to come and bless me just stayed home to paint their toenails: i can't dance, i can't sing, i'm pudgy and balding, i'm not particularly charismatic, i'm color-blind, and have an absolutely abysmal sense of style. i may as well have been born straight...or worse: a lesbian.

when was younger (ie. my early 20's) i watched tv shows and movies like Queer As Folk, Will & Grace, Trick and Kiss Me Guido and think "wow, are all gay men gorgeous and stylish and fabulous"? "did i miss a meeting or something"? i figured it was just fictional media hoo-ha, like soap operas, pro Wrestling and the Gulf War. then i started going out to clubs and bars and i saw that it was true. there were beautiful men and boys as far as the eye could see; hell even the Jersey boys were good looking. it was incredibly daunting to someone who'd never received praise higher than "you're...cute" by anyone other than his mother. i was glad that most clubs were dark and most patrons were either fucked up or drunk. it was an incredible relief that nobody could see my hairlip, third eye, cowlick or gimpy leg. i'm kidding, of course, i never had a cowlick.
so why'd i go? the music, mostly. even though i'm a terrible dancer (i'm part of the 1% of gay men born without a shred of rhythm; check local listings for our semi-annual telethon) i went because i totally loved the music and watching my friends dance; predictably, my closest friends are all terriffic dancers and good looking almost to the point of being intimidating (no matter how much baby blue they wear). the post-closing time trip to the diner or White Castle also added a certain trashy glamour to the affair as well (who can resist the siren call of Chicken Rings and Mozzarella Sticks at 4 am?).
one of the more interesting twists of fate was that i became very good friends with an extroverted DJ and a budding Drag Queen, neither of whom could ever be described as being less than fabulous. they were regulars in in the NY club scene and really were everything i wasn't. even now, almost 10 years later, it occasionally surprises me that we're as close friends as we are; i'm deffinitely the Rhoda. the best part, though was that they both always made me feel Cool by Association: less Rhoda and more Mary.
so my, point, if indeed there is one to all this rambling, isn't Woe is Me! I'm Bucky the Mule-Faced Boy, it's that no matter how out of place i feel amongst the gay community, thanks to the crap we're fed by Falcon, HX, Next, Bel Ami, and the rest of the youth obsessed, twinkie-lovin media, i've finally come to grips with the fact that i'm still okay. i used to try to fit in: be like the herd. it never worked. EVER. i used to get upset that i didn't look like everyone else, wasn't as goodlooking or as built. i'm finally over it. all of it. i just can't do it anymore, and now i realize that i don't have to.i've got wonderful friends and a terriffic lover. i'm finally over needing the constant validation of the The Community. i'll never walk into a room and turn everyone's head, and i don't care.

"I used to get spanked. Yeah, my mother used to line us up and we'd get it with the belt. I think she was into music, cause we were all different sizes like a xylophone. But I've been through therapy, I'm OK now"~ Cyndi Lauper