Hello My Name is Rugged Fox
Hello, my name is Rugged Fox. I feel like it is only appropriate I introduce myself again; because it has been ages since the last time we spoke. So much has happened in life that I find myself unsure where to begin. I suppose we should start with the basics.
At the time of this writing, I am a 33-year-old balding ginger who lives in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. To be even more specific, I live at the Fox Den, a junior-one-bedroom apartment in the West End, three blocks from the nearest gay bar and dosa house. I am 180lbs; which is 65lbs more than I weighed when I first moved here in 2009. This weight gain can be attributed to the following:
6lbs – lean muscle including biceps and shoulders
30lbs – frozen pizza, chicken parmesan, spaghetti pomodoro
20lbs – wine (white, rosé, red, fortified, boxed, on tap)
2lbs – extra layers of clothing due to winter season (woolen sweaters, Blundstones, etc.)
7lbs – stress from balding
For work, I currently serve pizza at a neighbourhood restaurant and travel around part-time delivering workshops on suicide prevention. The two jobs actually have a lot more in common than you would think. My ultimate dream is to one-day write a hit tv-show for HBO. I will also settle for Netflix, Amazon Prime, and CBC On Demand.
My ultimate dream before becoming a television writer was to become a novelist. However, the air on that dream was deflated one evening, when one of my trusted confidants asked me, “Why would you want to write a book right now, when all you are going to do is sell one copy to your mom and give the rest away for free to friends and family?” They had a good point.
I mentioned to them, in earnest, that I had tried to reach 10,000 followers on Instagram so I could secure a publishing contract and fame. Except, despite hundreds of selfies and clever captions, the most followers I could get without buying them was 813. And at the time of this writing, I am now down to 794. Did I mention I also draw cartoons?
In regard to a love life, I am very much still a proud member of the Singleton’s club. (Now that I write that, it sounds like I am getting my tenth cheap haircut for free; but I intend to mean “relationship status.”) I signed up for Facebook Dating a few weeks ago; but for some reason, Facebook still thinks I am straight. Considering they have every other piece of data on my life from the last 15 years, you’d think they could get this one detail right.
I did go on one date last summer; but it was a total bomb. Within the first ten minutes of the date, the gentleman caller asked me for my astrological sign and then, from a website on his iPhone, read to me all the negative traits attached to it. “Which ones best apply to you?” he asked. You cannot make this shit up. The worst part was that, in the end, he walked away with two of my free drink tickets.
The next day when he texted me to say he had a really nice time, I wrote back “some actions are unforgivable.”
My sex life, well, that is a much different story filled with equal parts tragedy and comedy. We will get into it one night; but for now I will tell you that following a wine fueled stint on Grindr that lasted five months; I finally decided to put the breaks on when I, drunkenly, fell off the bed one night reaching for lubricant. Some gay men have a problem managing sex and methamphetamine. I have a problem managing sex and $9 bottles of red wine.
I think this is a good start for an introduction. I have surpassed my goal of writing 500 words which means today is a success and it is not even noon. I look forward to speaking with you the next time.