I can scarcely believe it was two years ago when I first published a piece in which I came out - not as gay, which, let's face it, would be too obvious even for me - but as a spinster. That announcement caused quite a little brouhaha among my friends, but only because they're lovely people who refuse to see me for what I am, which is a spinster.
I am taking this opportunity to reiterate my previous claim; even though in the past twelve months I did have a brief fling with a wildly inappropriate person - making me more or less the quintessential dater - that affair did nothing to change my mind with regards to this status. Despite all the flirting I do on Facebook, I'm only teasing when I do that; if just about any of those guys came near me in life I'd run from them like it was an Olympic event.
Unfortunately, for all the positive it's given me, my life in Vancouver has permanently ruined me when it comes to dating and all that. I doubt that even moving would fix the problem now. Some things, once they're broken, cannot be fixed - and this is one of them.
On the occasion of National Coming Out Day 2008 I'd like to add to my previous declaration the word 'workaholic', making me a 'workaholic spinster' in the mould of Miss Jane Hathaway. The gay men of Vancouver will no doubt be crushed that they'll never get the chance to reject me again, but I know I'll rest easier not having to be called Gramps or Fatso by men older and fatter than me at Bear Night.
In a way, it's them I feel sorry for... I'm a pretty great boyfriend, all things considered; in fact, in certain circles I could even be considered a catch, especially if I put a little more work into it. Alas, I was just never able to meet the standard of perfection gay men (especially the ones in Vancouver) seem to be looking for. Oh well... As they say, 'You win some, you lose some.'
Unless, of course, you don't win any. They don't say what to do in that case.
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