A Public Display of Affliction

Not ten minutes after my contretemps in London Drugs, with half a Blenz medium sliding nicely into my gullet as a consolation, I was about to cross the street when out of the corner of my eye I saw Terry. I turned quickly and hoped he hadn't seen me. I remember thinking, 'With any luck he'll think it's someone who looks like me rather than me and I'll be safe'.

Then I remembered: that kind of logic doesn't even work in sitcoms. Shit! I was gonna have to steel myself up to talking to him. I heard him call "Hey!" and ignored it. I mounted a last-ditch escape attempt and in my zeal to get away from him I nearly ran in front of a number 9 bus. That's where he caught me.

Terry is a very cute guy I've known casually for about five years. I see him about five times a year; three or four of those I manage to avoid him. The last time was nearly a year ago now.

If you were to describe my type, you'd come close to describing Terry. In addition to the hotness (honestly - so much it really should be continued on a second guy, preferably me) he's smart and he's inexplicably friendly to me. I say inexplicably partly because of the whole Gay Men Hate Me thing, but partly because he came from such an unfriendly crowd. Yet here he is again.

Terry: Haven't seen you in a long time.

Me: Yeah. Keeping a low profile. I almost didn't see you today, either, the way that bus was driving.

Terry: Yeah, I woulda had to leap in front of it to save you. (He paused for a beat, then said:) You're looking well. Really good.

Me: You look just as good as ever.

Terry: Thanks. (He smiled with his mouth closed. I knew I'd better be careful now, because if his teeth make an appearance I'm a goner.)

Me: What are you doing over here anyway? (Terry lives in the West End, and West End gays never leave their precious ghetto even when they most ought to.) You crossed a bridge and everything. Pretty gutsy for a West End guy.

I was teasing and he took it as such. He smiled at me again; this time it was like someone made a copy with the lid open. A tiny piece of me (although definitely a bad piece) died when he did.

Terry: Yeah, I do lots of things I'm not supposed to do.

Me: So, are you working around here?

He gestured vaguely in the direction of the hospital.

It was about a block from where he caught me to where we'd have to go our separate ways; all this walking and dialogue took less than thirty seconds, but felt like thirty minutes, and probably took 30 months off my life.

At the corner of W.10th and Heather we parted. I watched him walk away, his slender figure spryly crossing away from me. I wanted to vomit, that's how nice it was to see him.

For the next couple of hours I played the scene over and over in my head, kicking myself for letting him see me, for not mentioning my blog so we could stay in better touch, for all the stupid things I do, and did. Of course, if I'd have ignored him and run away I'd have been sick about that too, and the same if I'd told him about the blog.

Just about the only decision I made today with regards to Terry that I wouldn't have regretted was stepping in front of that bus, although I deeply regret admitting that. So you see my quandary. 99.99% of the gay men I meet treat me like dog shit, so that when the .01% who are super nice to me come around it takes everything I have to even orchestrate the awkward conversation we did have.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I'm not a well man.
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It Happened Again

Seeing as I have recently come into a little money, I am once again on the prowl for some more and better blogging equipment. I thought I'd try London Drugs on Broadway near Cambie, since it's near where I'll be working tonight. I entered and approached the Electronics counter; there were two men working there - an Asian guy and a blond guy. Not to be racist, but I went to speak to the Asian, not because I thought he knew any more about cameras than the blond guy, he just looked more helpful.

It was not to be. The blond guy got there first.

Blond Guy: Good afternoon sir, can I help you?

Me: Yes, I bought my current camera in April last year at London Drugs downtown. It's a Fujifilm S5200. I was looking to compare features with the Fujifilm S9000, but I don't see it here.

Blond Guy sighed and rolled his eyes, which should have been my clue to step away, or at least start laughing. I did neither.

Blond Guy: We've never sold that camera here, and I don't think they make it anymore.

Me: I see.

There was a long pause. So long, in fact, if it was on TV it would have been funny (like they sometimes do on 'Family Guy'). I had to do something, so I began admiring the S6000 which was in the display case.

Blond guy: (finally, with a sigh) I guess I can look it up for you on the Net.

Me: Thank you.

Then I stood and watched the second hand of the nearest clock whirl through 2 solid minutes while I, a motivated buyer, am ignored.

Finally I asked the Asian guy: "Are you the manager?"

He nodded. Even though he'd been standing there the entire time, and undoubtedly heard the entire transaction, he'd done nothing sooner to intervene.

Me: I came in here today as a business man looking to buy a piece of equipment for my business, and when I did I expected to be treated as such. Instead I get this guy's attitude.

Blond guy: (oozing with attitude) I did NOT give you attitude.

Me: I consider a heavy sigh and rolling eyes when I only asked a simple question to be attitude.

Manager: Sir...

Me: On second thought, I've changed my mind.

Manager: But...

Me: I think I'll go and buy this camera somewhere else.

And then I leaned in to the Blond guy and said: "The next time I want attitude like yours, I'll go to the Odyssey, thank you." The Odyssey is a gay bar in Vancouver, frequented by twinks of all ages.

The last I saw, he'd turned beet red, and there was an exchange of words between himself and the manager as I walked away.

So it seems that nothing has changed yet. I am still not entitled to being treated with respect by any gay men.
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Stunning Archaeological Find (Hint: It's Not Joan Rivers!)

[I found Hera's head! Okay, I didn't really. I was just trying to help.]

Okay, so while excavating an ancient city beneath Mount Olympus recently, archaeologists found both a statue of Zeus and a statue of Hera that they think are from the same temple. This would be startling, enough, as this sort of thing seldom (maybe never) happened. Worse yet is that ancient Christians had used this beautiful work of art to build a defensive wall, and it didn't work! Maybe they shoulda left it where they found it.

I shudder to repeat what I first thought when I read that scientists were looking for anything old under the crumbling ruins of Dion, but let's just say they included visions of Rene Angelil, and the way they danced in my head I wanted to get a melon-baller and gouge them out.

[SOURCE]
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