I remember someone telling me something years ago. He said that I should enjoy my time now because I only had a few years left. I believe at the time, I was 20 or 21 and he told me--being the great Jedi Master that he was--that there was no way that I was going to have much of a life after 25. That somehow that is the cutoff in the gay lifestyle of mattering to any soul that you want to look back at you with adoring eyes. So his advice was that I was wasting my life because I hadn't been hitting the club circuit for years. I wasn't an experienced drunk yet nor was I carrying a vast assortment of condoms with me everywhere I went just in case I ran into someone cute enough to fuck right here and right now. According to Obi-Wan, I was wasting my great potential and racing against the gay hourglass of my life. Because come age 25 plus one day, I would be pulling an Invisible Woman to the gay population at large. A housefull of cats would end up being my only option in not remaining lonely. And then a funny thing happened...I got older, got a little bit cuter and became slightly more visible. Day plus two and day plus three arrived and I actually got to say Fuck You to his whole line of thinking. Now I laugh everytime someone guesses that I'm much younger than I actually am because in an alternative universe, some bitter queen is pissed that I didn't evaporate in the exact way I was fucking supposed to.
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