The doldrums of summer are hopefully drawing to a close. Scrappy and I took off for the US together and parted ways in Chicago as he left for Toronto, I headed to do some work and then a week with my son as he heads off to University, a week with the other company where I’m still a partner. A hellish long return flight to Hong Kong and then immediately off to Australia for a grueling week of meetings. Back in HK, the apartment looks like a bomb exploded. Scrappy is still in Toronto and won’t wind his way back to me until the end of the month, he’ll explode when he sees the mess I’ve made.
I miss him and he misses me. Couple that with his jealousy, my cheating on him about this time last year and I’m getting phone calls at all sorts of odd hours to check up on my whereabouts and with whom. He woke up at 7.30 a.m. his time one morning to call me (his majesty rarely is moving at that hour). Our friends find it annoying how much we chatter, but after 5 years together there remains a freshness to our relationship. Yes there are occasional sparks, but who doesn’t enjoy fireworks.
Scrappy has been worried about his good gay childhood friend Ryan. Ryan has a successful career in the entertainment business and from his photos is very cute. I have been prohibited from meeting Ryan due to some poorly timed comments from myself whilst Scrappy was nearby. Though frankly it’s not like I’m tooling around Toronto all that much.
Ryan, I fear, has found himself in a new stage of gaydom. Cute as he may be, he’s now been fucked by all the available talent in Toronto. If you’re a homo in his type range, you’ve already had him at least for one night. Ryan has had some relationships but alas nothing of recent. He found a pseudo relationship in the form of a roommate and they have done virtually everything together, ‘cept the sex bit. Sadly, this is now the 3rd or even 4th time where I’ve seen this type of situation.
Scrappy is worried, Ryan is now seemingly depressed, went to the doctor who prescribed anti-depressants. Studies have long shown that incidents of depression are statistically lower in the poor. Why is that? Because they’re so busy trying to make ends meet, they don’t have time to fret about their lives. So it would seem that depression is brought on by having too many idle cycles to think about one’s life, issues and problems rather than the actual issue or problem itself.
I do admit, that at points along this trip I’ve been on in writing this blog, I’ve clearly hit low points, grey days that seems to linger into weeks. Lucky for me, I powered through them. But not everyone is that lucky.
The question is whether a chemical solution is indeed the answer. I offered to Scrappy that Ryan should perhaps seek therapy instead (always popular with the homos) and look for ways to move out of whatever rut he felt he was in. I hope he does he is cute after all. 🙂