I know what you’re thinking. He gets a boyfriend (poor dude) and then abandons us. Typical gay flake.
But, no, it’s not what you think. Sure, I’m still navigating a new relationship (yep, poor dude), but I just haven’t had anything to write about.
Okay, it may have something to do with the boyfriend. So many of my blog posts over the years have been about dates, most of them bad ones. Now I don’t have to navigate online sites filled with supposedly single guys who supposedly want to be in a relationship or, at least, meet for a coffee. And I don’t have to use my blog as an outlet to process the endless stream of those WTF coffee get-togethers.
Hung over guys.
Men who show up still sweating profusely from the gym.
Guys that talk in uninterrupted monologues.
Guys that decide to sit and give me the silent treatment.
Guys that don’t show up at all.
It was great fodder for writing but utterly ego-crushing. And I didn’t have much of an ego to begin with!
I know I could have continued to communicate with you, dear reader, even without the bad dates. Maybe I could have written about the early stages of my relationship, but I haven’t talked with my partner about that and I don’t want him reading about our tiffs on a public website that two or three people glance at every so often. I made a conscious choice to preserve and protect our beginnings. A relationship needs to find its legs on its own without the meddling and the (dis)approval of family, friends and blog readers.
I may still go virtual with The State of Us. That’s one of the drawbacks of dating a writer. You become a character, fictionalized or not. If David Sedaris can do it with Hugh Hamrick, why can’t I with my man, aka, The Poor Dude? But that’s still a discussion that’s yet to come.
Here's an idea: Maybe we can wear shirts and
still be proud. Aren't we supposed to have a
keen sense of fashion?
I could have written about other things. Pride parades and the press’ constant need to post the related pics of guys with abs in teeny tiny Lycra bottoms. Why do these attendees have a constant need to bare themselves and why do they hang in packs of two or three? Six packs stick together while Other-Bellied Gays come and go in various configurations—even, perhaps not so shockingly, alone. I could have gone political with a few posts, too. How can there NOT be a daily blog about Trump and his henchmen?! (Just this morning, I heard one of his supporters call all this bothersome inquiry into Russia “the big nothing burger.” So eloquent, so profound.) There’s also been troubling news from Chechnya and a discouraging personal “No” vote from Angela Merkel on gay marriage. Clearly, the blog could have continued.
Okay, I will admit that my boyfriend has been a most pleasant distraction. As it’s a long-distance relationship, there are a lot of late night conversations on FaceTime. Consequently, I’m not as inclined to hit the café in the morning to carve out some writing time before work. So he is a factor but not the main one. The simple truth is that my energy to write fizzled. My thoughts dried up. I lost my voice. The pressures of a new work environment consumed me more that I wanted to admit. In the past, writing served as my escape, my source of joy, my outlet for creativity. (Okay, I can see it myself…Enter: boyfriend.) The harsh reality is that I’ve struggled to find any satisfaction with the drivel I’ve typed on those occasions when I have tried to commit to my craft. I never fully told myself to go on hiatus—which would have been a healthier way to rid myself of writer’s guilt—but that’s what, in effect, happened.
So now I have summer and some time off from work. It means more time with my partner—yay! (once more, the poor dude)—but it also offers a chance to find my writing voice once more.
I appreciate your patience, dear reader, and the fact that you’ve bothered to check in again. I can’t promise regular posts, but I’ll make a better effort. Don’t blame the boyfriend. The flakiness is all me.