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Hello My Name is Rugged Fox

I am a 30-something bachelor living in Vancouver, BC, Canada. Pour yourself a glass of wine and join me on this tale of questionable fashion choices and epic dating fails.

Gay Ginger Uncle

Gay Ginger Uncle

Ever since I stumbled out of the closet at the age of nineteen, I have donned a number of hats, both literally and figuratively. While my Facebook memories boast a platitude of dashing head pieces, including but not limited to: fedoras, bowlers, sombreros, boaters and baseball caps, they also showcase the various roles I have sported over the years.

Throughout my twenties, my CV highlighted my qualifications as a socialite, wine guzzler, and well-dressed wordsmith. Playing into one stereotype after another, I was at my peak, cast alongside single bridesmaids, questioning straight men and pretty much anyone up after last call. Now that a decade has passed, and times have changed, I find my wardrobe refining just as much as my life. As a result, I have had to retire some hats in order to make room for new ones.

Among these additions, one of my favourite outfit changes, as of late, has been dressing up as a Gay Uncle. At 32 and ¾’s, I now have responsibilities to seven babies, one teenager and a Boston Terrier named CLARK.

This week, I will be checking out of the Fox Den to look after my handsome dog nephew in Chinatown. While his parents and baby brother are away on vacation, CLARK and I have made plans to: catch up on Netflix, play ball, cruise hotties on the seawall, play ball, drink numerous bowls of water and red wine, and… play ball. I would be telling Meryl Streep a lie if I did not say I was looking forward to it.

Back story is that, I first met CLARK at my best friend Claire’s annual Christmas party in 2013. Both dressed in ugly Christmas sweaters at the time, the two of us hit it off like The Fox and the Hound. Because I have anxiety in small spaces with large numbers of attractive people, CLARK and I became close companions at every major social event thereafter. Eventually, I became his official dog-sitter.

Celebrating our last three birthdays together, I could draw a comic strip about all the adventures we have had. When he was three-and-a-half, I carried him down the aisle at his parents wedding on Bowen Island. While he opted for a classic silver tuxedo, I exploded like a garden in springtime with a floral pattern shirt, teal green bowtie and navy-blue slacks. A year later, the two of us RSVP’d to a photo shoot that landed us on a Limited-Edition Coffee Mug and Wine Coaster set.  

I have dreamed of taking care of a dog full-time, ever since the day my dad emailed my sister and me, way back when, to tell us that our childhood poodle was dead. At present, I am not quite there yet! Apart from the fact that this apartment is not pet-friendly, I spend most of my days running between two jobs with barely enough time to squeeze in a bottle of red wine. Who is to say what the future holds? But, for now, I am grateful to look after CLARK whenever I can.

I gotta go pack my suitcase, but I will write to you next week with mischief to report.

The Fox and the Hound

The Fox and the Hound

How Rugged Got His Groove Back

How Rugged Got His Groove Back

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