Good Luck With This One. . .

For having been, for all intrinsic purposes, more miserable than I have ever been for the past twelve weeks, the past two days have been very nice. Last night, my friend KE came over and we watched “Four Weddings and a Funeral.” Everyone said that this movie is wonderful. Everyone is stupid! I wish there had just been five funerals! After that extravaganza, I went to a late movie with my friend R?. We saw “The Covenant.” It is done by the same people who did “Underworld” (one of my all-time favorites). ‘Covenant’ was not near as good, but, dear Lord, the eye candy and homoeroticness of that movie. Hallelujah! Then, this morning I had brunch with my wonderful friend SH, followed by a second viewing of “Little Miss Sunshine” with TB (not tuberculosis), JS (not jock strap), and SM (not S&M). Very, very fun. Now, I am getting ready to go to a huge gay party with KE. Not in the mood for a big party, but we are going to ‘make and appearance’ (apparently, my adoring public needs to witness the glory that is me) and then we are going to go do something low key.
Now, wasn’t that a fun little overview of my last twenty-four hours? I thought so. Especially with all the damned initials!!!
There was one thing that the horrific Wedding/Funeral movie did bring up for me. There is a scene where a man dies, leaving his gay lover behind. I can not imagine going through such a thing. I have barely managed to stay partially sane through a break-up—significant though I believe it is, it is nothing compared to my lover dying! How do you go on?
To top it off, you not only have to face live without your love, you don’t even have the same status as a man and woman, even if a lot of it is just in name. You were never legally married or husbands. You are not a widower. You do not get to stand up in church and give a eulogy of your husband. ARGH!!! It blows my mind, really. The more I think about it, the less I understand the reasoning behind the popular opinion’s stance. Yes, I can have a ceremony; I can be married in the eyes of God and friends. I can change my will to include him and give him power of attorney, blah, blah, blah. Sounding Spoiled Warning: I want to be really, really married. I want, I want, I want, I want. I am willing to throw myself on the floor in the supermarket and kick, scream, and tirade until I can. So there! Nah-nah-na-na-nah!!!
Well, that was fun. Random fact for you. Tonight (for the party), I am wearing a dress shirt and sweater. It is official. It is sweater wearing time. While I love wearing sweaters, it is way too early. I am not ready for summer to be gone. Of course, I am sure everyone else will show up wearing tank tops and jock straps, but I have never been one to follow the fashion trends.
Addendum (five and a half hours later):
So, KE and my “appearance” at the party turned into a closing the place down. Very fun though. And, I was right. Everyone had their skinniest T-shirts on, muscles bulging—everyone but MR, who also had on a sweater! Thank you MR! The sweater I was wearing is a very nice one from NYC. However, it was big when I bought it and I was fifty pounds heavier—two years ago, almost. At some point in the evening, I took the sweater off, folded it and put in on the sofa. A little while later, a guy came up to KE, who was sitting beside it and picked up my sweater, started unfolding it, and let out a little squeal, “Oh, what is this afghan? Oh, my, it’s got sleeves. It must be a fat-girl sweater!” To which KE and I died laughing. The guy’s face got so red when he realized the sweater belongs to me!
Even if I didn’t just wear my jock strap, at least I made an impression!