I called in sick to work today because I am SICK of the bullshit that is going on up there. It was a joy to be home alone without my roommate and her boyfriend here, and to not be in arms reach of Boss Lady and Big Boss Lady, neither of whom are winning my affection lately. This scenario that is playing out is a slap in the face to me. I keep being told “we’re going to do X” but there is no plans whatsoever to do X. I’m being taken advantage of and manipulated, and, because when it rains it pours, this is also happening to me on the homefront -- this apartment is always being some kind of fucking half way house -- but nevermind all that. The lesson learned is that trying to do something nice for people is not always the best bet. My life is falling apart around me and my blood boils just to think about it.
So I went to the gym, as I have been sticking to my every-other-day routine since I started right after the New Year. There is this woman that goes to my gym, probably about 39 or 40, who looks her age, but looks perfect for her age. She is really really pretty and has a perfect body. We have some facial recognition between us – we exchange smiles when we see each other. It encourages my scrawny ass for some reason in this cest pit of massive men. (It really kind of is a cess pit…every time I feel increasingly like I’m getting MRSA just by being there.)
Anyway, I have this huge gay boy-on-girl crush on her! I don’t know if other gay men experience this phenomena, but I get it sometimes with remarkable women. Usually it’s like a professor, or a business associate, but this time it’s with a complete stranger. To quote Excuses for Bad Behavior Part 1, “it’s not sexual, it’s sisterhood.” That she’s sweet to me, an obviously gym-dysfunctional person, doesn’t hurt.
I have her life conjured up in my mind. In this fantastical rendering I have come up with, she lives alone in a fabulous two bedroom apartment in Astoria – which is by choice, because she could live in Manhattan if she damn well chose to. She has a high level job for an art museum, tons of education, and Democratic political leanings, but kind of moderate by New York standards. She runs with the movers and shakers but isn’t afraid to stick her head in some of the more seedy places. She has a hairless cat. She’s a vegetarian except on Sundays when she has dim sum with her girlfriends who are super-fabulous and nothing like the Sex and the City cast.
I could go on with the things I’ve envisioned about this woman. I just imagine her life as being perfect to match her looks.
After the gym tonight, I stopped in the grocery store, as I am known to do, because burning all those calories makes a bitch HUNGRY. While I’m examining a big ass jar of olives, considering purchasing them, I hear her voice saying, “Work sucked! But the gym was good.” I looked over and she looked over, and our eyes met…and we exchanged our usual pleasant smiles.
I wanted to comfort her, and tell her, you have it all! Don’t let them get to you honey! It’s okay that work sucked, work sucks for me too! Let’s be friends! We can counsel each other! I have cats! Please teach me how to be like you!
Then I remembered I don’t even know this woman, and headed for the checkout.