My wife prepared an elegant birthday dinner for me tonight. Champagne and snack, pepper encrusted sushi tuna grilled with a spicy mango chutney and spinach. A total spread laid out for me. Even my teenage boys were well-behaved. It was a birthday celebration worth remembering.
During our dinner, my wife started talking about Scrappy Doo. She loves him. Scrappy has this natural beauty shine. He looks a bit girlie but he talks like this super cool dude who is totally comfortable with himself. I know Scrappy. He is totally comfortable with himself. She went on how she could tell how much he adored me, was wise to my ways and urged me to look past his sometimes immaturity to see the broader Scrappy.
You know you’re in trouble when your wife is siding with your boyfriend.
I realized at that moment that I have along the way been either very lucky or made some wise decisions or both. I shouldn’t dwell on the ones who got away or linger on situations that I really wasn’t in control of.
Single in the City, who by the way is gonna prepare an awesome Mexican meal for me from his traditional country, commented that what he really missed most with the personal time with a partner. He’s not referring to sex, he’s not referring to companionship, what he’s really talking about is love.
I had gotten engaged last week on an extended conference call with Asia. Emerging, I found that Scrappy had consumed nearly a whole bottle of wine and smoked up (he’s a pot head). Totally trashed. I put him shortly to bed and awoke in the middle of the night. He was laid out in the bed, clutching the bed sheet, his little arms folded with just a big smile on his face. I knew then, he was just happy. Happy that I was there. I was happy as well.
The gay world can be so sexually driven or so it would seem. But if you look beneath, there is a segment of boys, men like Scrappy, like Single Guy who want, look for, need and desire the elusive thing we call love.