(no subject)
And so it begins...
Around the time the weather changes, and more and more shorts and short sleeved shirts make their way out on the streets, and talk once again finds its way to the Mariners (when hope still drips off the tongues of those who care, as opposed to around late August or early September when hope has all but faded, or has simply died) that the great spring thaw begins.
I am not talking about creeks and blooms. I'm talking about gay men and the relationships that have kept them warm in the winter.
You see, spring is the time when people look at their hibernated honeys and wonder to themselves, can I do better? And all those relationships you worked so hard to tolerate, even as the stranger your friend is in love with has the personality of a bag of Alpo, suddenly take turns that could only be described as unpredictably predictable.
Reports are coming in. So-and-so has dumped so-and-so. So-and-so's available. So-and-so is in a really vulnerable, "American Idol has only five weeks left" kind of space, so I think you've got a shot at him. Those kinds of reports.
And, as usual, I'm going to pretend like this isn't happening. That male nature isn't really tied somehow to mother nature. That this "Spring Forward" doesn't really suggest the callous nature of man as one who'll dump the bitch and make the switch when the flowers bud any more than "Fall Back" would sharply imply the need to grab someone to make those long, rain-soaked winter nights more tolerable (even though it's December, and you already know you'll be done with him by Pride).
I am going to ignore the elephant in the room and just opt to talk about the Mariners... with hope.
Around the time the weather changes, and more and more shorts and short sleeved shirts make their way out on the streets, and talk once again finds its way to the Mariners (when hope still drips off the tongues of those who care, as opposed to around late August or early September when hope has all but faded, or has simply died) that the great spring thaw begins.
I am not talking about creeks and blooms. I'm talking about gay men and the relationships that have kept them warm in the winter.
You see, spring is the time when people look at their hibernated honeys and wonder to themselves, can I do better? And all those relationships you worked so hard to tolerate, even as the stranger your friend is in love with has the personality of a bag of Alpo, suddenly take turns that could only be described as unpredictably predictable.
Reports are coming in. So-and-so has dumped so-and-so. So-and-so's available. So-and-so is in a really vulnerable, "American Idol has only five weeks left" kind of space, so I think you've got a shot at him. Those kinds of reports.
And, as usual, I'm going to pretend like this isn't happening. That male nature isn't really tied somehow to mother nature. That this "Spring Forward" doesn't really suggest the callous nature of man as one who'll dump the bitch and make the switch when the flowers bud any more than "Fall Back" would sharply imply the need to grab someone to make those long, rain-soaked winter nights more tolerable (even though it's December, and you already know you'll be done with him by Pride).
I am going to ignore the elephant in the room and just opt to talk about the Mariners... with hope.