They crucify Romantics, right?

To my pleasant surprise, my pops told me of an event that occurred at his workplace the other night. He was never much of the open conversationalist that acknowledged my sexuality type.

At his restaurant the other night, there were two men having a nice delicate dinner together. After some time, one of the men eventually stood up beside the table and got down on his knee to propose to what would be his future spouse. And after the jaw-dropping public display of obviously more than affection for each other, in the form of a passionate kiss to seal the deal, everyone had gotten up to cheer them. This isn't a common occurrence you'd find in a 4-star restaurant, let alone anywhere in public.

Just hearing that coming from the words of my pops, with a smile on his face, uplifted what little hope I had buried deep down. To think there are people out there, gay even, who will go the distance to show his lover how much he means to him, and how much he wants to spend his life with him, rattled the cage that I had locked my inner subservient in; the silent slave to the idea of true romance and unconditional love. Maybe it rattled me, or maybe it caught me off guard, just as I was teetering on a very thin thread and a loss of hope for love in the gay world. But somehow I find myself refreshed and rather hopeful for my self.

Maybe it was a diamond in the rough, this incident, or a needle in the hay; or I could be playing my cynics card and pretending to basque in my belief that they'll probably not last for more than 2 months. But I'd be a liar if I said I'm not sitting here, sulking, wondering when something like that would happen for me.

Monogamy is a beautiful thing, whenever its elusive grasp is finally gripped. It's a shame so many men avoid it like a disease. Men revel as interlopes and writhe at the thought of being tied down with another person. Ironically enough, we tell ourselves at least once a day that it would be nice to settle down and fall in love, but when push comes to shove, we run in the other direction. We beg and plead, to whatever god we may not believe in, to help us through the assholes to get to the good guys; and when the good guy comes along, as rarely as it ever happens, we push them away when they start to get too close. Why is it that we can hope so much for something, but the minute it gets too close for comfort, we push it aside and chew up our words?

I'd like to think that in theory, men are born with a complex; one that nullifies their sense of security with other people. Naturally we have trust-issues with anyone intimately interested in us. Sure the sex can be great and bedroom antics can skyrocket to a borderline "match"; but as soon as opening up to that person on a level far more intimate than sex comes into play, we tick. This tick is more of a tourettes response to emotional inquity, and as a result, we indecently turn the tables on a person in an effort to push them away, without directly having to do so.

Too bad they can't prescribe us Haloperidol for our emotional tourette syndrome. But I guess for now, we can strap a rubber-band on and slap ourselves on the wrist whenever we might tick. Who knows what may come of a person we push away, for the sake of some proverbial trust-issue we pretend to have, to spare ourselves the trouble of getting it wrong.

Recessed

If we’re born with the mission to leave a legacy behind in our lives, what’s left for the generations after us, if all we’re leaving them is a mess of an existentialist socialite bankruptcy?

We’re setting up for a recession far worse than our current economy; one that will deprive our next generation of any kind of moral compass. We’re so strung out and confined in the idea that, through all of our conquests, nothing matters more than getting our dicks wet.

As I see it, nobody cares to befriend anyone anymore if there’s no sex involved, and certainly no genuine interest in stimulation that goes beyond the precipes of physical, more intimate settings. We’re neglecting not only the expansion of the synapses our brains can uphold through the simple spark of courteous conversation, but also the emotional maturity and progression of connecting to another human being on a basis that isn’t governed by sex.

It’s both amusing and depressing in the same breath. Nobody will approach you on the streets just to causally chit-chat and make an acquaintance, or even a friend. And, of course, online? That’s a joke. The online social networking and dating sites don’t offer much of a support system for those who are genuinely interested in meeting other genuinely interested people. Internet dating is a masquerade that revels and basks in creating, or even unleashing, an alternative persona to glorify some sense of security. But often times that masque becomes a leading role. And often times people blur the lines between who they really are with who they want(ed) to be to other people. To our social demise, these internet "social networking" websites seem to only harbor sexual deviants who make it a point to base their lives on simply just that.

If sex sells as much as it does today, tomorrow for our new comers, what will be of the human race if we sulk and thrive in sexuality and not our sensuality? What will be for that poor adolescent, depraved at home, staring at his computer screen, hoping for interaction – contrary to the lack of courtesy and general interest from those around him in the flesh – when he’s got nothing left to rely on, as a result of detaching and becoming disinterested in the status-quo?

I’d like to play super-hero and tell a story of a boy who has lost his hope for socialism in our divided post-modern society, but I can only sing to that beat so many times. It’s up to us, the orderlies, to sanction what little bit of hope we have now because before we know it, tomorrow’s generation will be tainted before they even know it.