An Aging and Somewhat Broken Queen
I am writing to you now from the comfort of my bed at the Fox Den. I am not going to lie; these sheets have not seen another man since monkey pox arrived.
Physically, these past few months have not been my time to shine. Following a series of unfortunate events, I have come to realize that even though fall is my favourite time of year, it is much too dangerous for me. Like the gorgeous ginger leaves blowing off the trees, I keep plummeting to the ground. Like the mercury in the thermometer outside the kitchen window, I continue to drop. Must I go on?
Case in point. This time last year, in the spirit of the season, I fell for the likes of a gentleman caller named Theodore J. Nelson. After several delectable dates, my heart took a nosedive, when he disappeared faster than a bottle of French rosé on a Monday brunch. Oh! How I wish I could say that I simply burned the zero photographs we had together and moved on; but that is not like me at all. It took one dramatic episode over butter chicken and three full moons, before I was able to wash a man right out of my hair again.
“This fall, it is not my heart that is broken, but rather my foot, possibly my arm, and most certainly my ego.”
It is all just too much! Is it not? Taking a sip from my coffee mug, I am fighting the urge to crawl under my LL Bean duvet cover I purchased on credit. Reaching for a tissue, I do not wipe any tears away, I blow my nose furiously. My steadfast companion these days is a cold that does not wish to go away. Now, where were we?
Right! This fall, it is not my heart that is broken, but rather my foot, possibly my arm, and most certainly my ego. It has been nearly seven weeks since I sailed off the stage at The Cross Swords, a local gay bar. As if one wipe-out was not enough, two weeks ago, in a freak boot accident at work, I went down to the ground once again. This afternoon, I get the X-ray results back from that tumble.
Now, you may be wondering, am I searching for pity with all this? You bet I am! I will accept Instagram follows, likes, and positive comments on this post. That said, if I were to practice humility more often, I might be inclined to think I could learn a lesson from all this. It is much easier, of course, to change the subject.
I have not disclosed this information to you yet! Because I was waiting for the right time. However, across the back lane, one floor down and two units east of Pandemic Pete, a very attractive gay man moved in. In his early twenties, with a full head of hair, and from the mid-West, he has become “most tapped” on Grindr as of late. Of course, he does not know it yet; but soon he will come to know whose territory he is barking on. Just as soon as I can walk again.
Until then, I will glare out my bedroom window and catch fleeting glimpses of my own reflection: an aging and somewhat broken Queen.
