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Posts Tagged ‘lifes a bitch’

Some of us are hot. Some of us are smart. A very few of us are both hot and smart. I know someone in that last category. I met him a few weeks ago, for obvious reasons, not the least of which is he would kill me if I were to do so. He is hawt as hell, probably one of the most beautiful boys I have ever personally met. I saw some photographs of him and he has one of the most amazing bodies I have ever seen. If I were still shooting porn, I would have immediately gotten out my checkbook to get him in front of my camera.

I wont say his name here (also for obvious reasons) and for many reasons, we are friends quietly and my interaction with him is mostly done under assumed names and aliases. This is necessary because he has appearances to keep up and I am the sort of person who sinks careers and destroys business ventures just by virtue of association. I have spent a fair amount of time talking to him and I enjoy his friendship and conversation. I would be lying if I said I did not find him attractive, but I also know it will only ever will be friendship, for he is married and he and I would never work in that way. In the past, I have been bad about avoiding fucking my friends, so this is an exercise in self control. He is one of the smartest people I know and my knowing him and the conversations we haveĀ  as a result have caused no small amount of self reflection.

He is hot and smart and unlike many hot guys (smart or not), he doesn’t flaunt it. He’ll take the compliments and he doesn’t mind the attention and will even bask in it, but he doesn’t feel the need to remind you of the fact that he is hotter than you at every chance. Such an approach to life is refreshing, I must admit. Nothing is worse than somebody who is hot and knows it. So this article is not about me fawning over him or putting him on a pedestal and dressing him up. Its about my self-reflection and musings on the title: what if I were hot?

Everyone has a few things going for them and a few against them. One of the gifts I have is the ability to give myself honest self appraisals. Doing so has lead me to the following determination: I am smart. Not an opinion held by just me, even most of my enemies admit this freely when they are being candid in their thoughts about me. People who like you will often patronize you and tell you what they think you want to hear or what will get them what they want. If you want to know how you are really projecting yourself or how you are come off, then ask someone who hates you. Be prepared, you may not like what you hear, but then again, that’s probably why you are enemies.

But while I am smart, I am enough of a realist to know that I am not hot. Well, there is one truck driver I met at The Finishline from somewhere out in Indiana who thinks I am hot. I got drunk one night really bad and wound up swallowing his cock. I was so drunk that before that night was over, I’d get arrested, have three criminal charges filed against me and wake up in the hospital tied to a bed and being forcibly treated after lapsing into a coma at the county jail. So I have to say that the trucker finding me hot was an isolated incident.

I am not cute – but what if I was? The guy I talked about at the start of this article is hot and smart and he has a wonderful middle class life. Does he have it because of his looks? Do I not have it because of my looks? This is the million dollar question, to be certain. I have wondered about this early and often. He is just as direct and in your face as I am and when he thinks something stinks, he says so. Only he says fuck you with a smile, and I say “fuck you” aloud when the time comes. This is a difference between us, but when you look right at it and compare the way he approaches things and the way I approach stuff, we are not all that different. He is extremely manipulative and self-focused, as am I. We are both focused on money, success and power. Yet with all these similarities, he has the life and I do not. While he will tell you his not rich, he has it going on. He makes money while he sleeps and he can go out on the town every night of the week and not blink. By contrast, I have a half a dozen corporations in bankruptcy and a personal life in disaster.

If I were hot, would I have the kind of life I want? Would I have his life? Sometimes I think it all boils down to looks in our community. Most homosexuals will tell you its not a choice to be gay. I disagree with this, I think for some people it is a choice and I think others they are born that way. But we all know that we cannot control the way we look, at least not without much plastic surgery. In a community that screams for equality because we cannot change who we are, why would I be excluded from the community because of my looks. I know I am slightly more abrupt than he is, which may be what holds me back in life. While he just gives the fuck you smile, I put it into words. Perhaps that subtle difference is what separates us.

Who knows. I am pretty sure that my looks are not the only thing holding me back. There are plenty of popular ugly people in our community. Yet there are also plenty of popular assholes in our community. So what gives? Perhaps I am just cursed. These are the kind of thoughts that keep me up at 2 AM in the morning, watching Logo and Queer as Folk re-runs posting on my blog that no one reads or cares about.

Today is set to be a busy day as I do more errands than I have done all year in a single day. Yet I can’t sleep, I don’t want to sleep and I just want to sit here and be miserable. I want to sit here and think about how my life has been a complete failure. I am keenly aware of the fact that I am 28 years old, in two years my life will be over (as every faggot’s life ends at 30) and while I am doing the things successful fags do, I dont feel it. I don’t feel successful. I am not happy. I am not where I want to be in life. I have no plan to get there. Today should be a good day, for it marks my burial of a hatchet with someone. But I don’t feel it. More than anything, I want a nice, stiff drink. Looks like I am going to be having booze for breakfast – again.

Despite the fact that I have spent more than a thousand words writing about it, I really don’t care. Why should I? I am cursed. I am doomed to suffer in this life. Maybe next time, I will be a cute little faggot that everyone wants.

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