Too little time, too many choices, most of them wrong.
A lot of the spam that ends up in my G-mail mailbox comes from people with the coolest names. They all work at The Ultimate Online Pharmaceutical. So far today, I’ve made friends with:
It’s so nice to have friends.
Oh, drama.
Mary J. Blige wants no more of it. I, in contrast, assert that the idea of being drama-free may in fact be misguided, and quite frankly a little bit stupid. Honestly, what is this “drama” that so many people claim to be free of in their online personal ads?
In order to answer this perplexing question, I have to gather some of the more dramatic incidents in my life that have occurred over the past few months. So, it’s time to make a list!
Wow! That’s a lot of drama. But for some reason, when I look back at that list, I don’t really see those things as drama. They’re just things that have happened to me. So, how does that list translate into drama? I think I’ve found the key. Drama isn’t perpetuated by the things that happen to you, but how you deal with them.
Certain people claim to have the ability to avoid drama, but it seems to me that this is just a bad attempt at abstinence. Running away from life experiences to avoid dealing with them is just plain stupid. The secret to not being overwhelmed by drama is knowing how to handle it, and take it in controlled doses.
I’m not always good at that, but I’m working on it. Some of my friends might say that I thrive on drama, and maybe I do, but that’s because I don’t want my life to be boring. Would people watch Desperate Housewives if nothing interesting happened on the show? How can I be interested in my own life if nothing ever happens in it? I realize that there are no ratings at stake, and that I need to be careful not to blur the fantasy/reality line, but there is a lot to be said for a little variety.
Drama is created when you get involved with people who are … different. Drama is created when you take risks. Drama is created when you do something outside the norm. To the dismay of many of my friends and acquaintances, that pretty much is a textbook definition of my life, and there really isn’t any escaping it. Even if there was, I doubt I would ever even try.
As long as I can keep my head on straight, and I remember to reflect on rather than obsesss about the things that happen to me, I suppose there’s no harm in having a maneagable dose of drama in my life.
I like hanging out with the crazy people. I thrive on having a challenging job. Linus enjoys taking death-defying leaps from the balcony, and it certainly makes for a good story to tell. Having my bike stolen sucks, but there has to be a lesson to be learned from it.
So I say, bring it on.
I’ve been spending a lot of time with gay people lately. One on one, in groups — I think I’ve met more gay guys since moving to the Bay Area than I’ve met in my entire life. My new life in California seems to have drawn out my homojo (a word shamelessly taken from the title of a Will & Grace episode), if you will.
When Mark and I were together, we never really had any gay friends. Keeping away from the “scene” was his way of keeping all the drama as far away as possible. Needless to say, since he and I met when I was 19, I couldn’t help but think that I might have been missing out on something during my early twenties — and it turns out that I was — but it wasn’t what I thought. Having seen Queer as Folk, I figured that I had only missed out on drug-enhanced sex orgies in the back rooms of steamy night clubs. While I’m happy to say that I did miss that (assuming that it even exists somewhere), I was also missing an opportunity for comradery.
I’ve been so social over the past few weeks that I’ve surprised myself. I’ve gone to karaoke twice, been bowling, met new people from online, gone to brunch, had a mini-cocktail party, and gone out to dinner numerous times, all in the direct company of gay men. Rather than it being a source of stress and drama, it’s been really nice to be able to relate to male friends on a personal level. All my friends have always been girls. I’ll now pause for a moment for the crowd to smirk at the stereotype I’ve effortlessly perpetuated. Now, the girls’ names that have been so much a part of my daily vocabulary — Ami, Jen, Roopa, Jessica, Kelsie — have been augmented, or almost replaced, with guys — Ernie, Andy, Josh, Dominic.
Now, I finally find myself being able to relate to people who are like me in a lot of ways. I’m thinking that this is a product of life in Northern California. I feel like one of the Sneetches with a star on its belly, happily frolicking with my own kind, and that feeling is very freeing to me. My entire life, I’ve really enjoyed being different, and I usually found myself drawn to the “weird” kids. My mother always used to tell me that I’m a “weirdo magnet” because I managed to befriend the opera-singing vampire wiccan lesbians. Now, rather than being one of a crowd of misfits, I feel right at home with others cut from the same mold as me.
Still, with all this newfound “belonging” comes a bit of apprehension. Because I haven’t had many gay male friends, it’s sometimes hard to know how to fit in just right. I find myself doing absurd things, like buying a new outfit to go out on a totally random Friday night, simply because Andy and I will be bar-hopping in the Castro. I ponder whether or not I own enough different pairs of shoes for different occasions. I’ve never really been “one of the crowd” and I’ve generally had very small groups of friends, so going out with people who recognize (and stop to hug) every third guy we see on the street is a very strange experience for me.
I suppose what I’m learning is that at 24, I don’t really need to know exactly who I am or where I do or don’t fit in. But I’ll be damned sure to keep trying. 