Perfect
Could my biggest problem be thinking that there’s something wrong with everything not being perfect? Nine months of my Jewish conversion journey didn’t get me any closer to things being perfect–but got me a lot closer to things being right.
Could my biggest problem be thinking that there’s something wrong with everything not being perfect? Nine months of my Jewish conversion journey didn’t get me any closer to things being perfect–but got me a lot closer to things being right.
A recent step on the bathroom scale confirmed what my shortness of breath on long flights of stairs already told me: I’m heavier than I want to be. But the men I date like that in a guy. How does a gay bear keep his dance card full when the time has come to reject his inner heifer?
Breaking up is usually hard to do. But for Adult ADHDers, the curtain comes down on love so frequently that we often spend an entire relationship just wondering when it will end. Sometimes we ADHDers need to offer ourselves the same understanding we ask of others.
It wouldn’t be so bad if I was the only one totally pwned in this relationship, but did my cat have to be brought into it, too?
‘Don’t worry, I’ve done this before and they almost always call,’ said Nick, announcing his decision to leave his number for our waitress. Overly Frank and I were less than eager to witness the passive-aggressive, likely-to-go-down-in-flames example of heterosexual courtship.
When Overly Frank adopted olderly Ryza from PAWS Chicago earlier this month, the cuddly interaction between Oklahoma expat and 11-year-old feline made me realize how much I’d been taking my own lifelong companion for granted. His life, that is.
The last age I took so hard was 25. Back then, launching into the latter half of my twenties without having achieved richness or thinness had me feeling like a big loser. Luckily, my self-confidence has improved since then. Now launching into my final 365 days before middle age without yet having achieved richness or thinness just has me feeling old.
It’s a sad commentary on my social life when the highlight of the past week comes from sitting on the front patio of hoary Uptown gay bar Big Chicks on dollar burger night, doing Gweilo impressions of contact sheets from AsianPoses.com. On a Monday.
When Pastry Chef Chris gave Hoosierella the 18 extra chocolate-flavored condoms in May at our weekly Lido’s Caffé coffee klatsch in Oak Park, no one expected them to come back.
I sat there and felt like I was a cartoon character and he was an unhappy artist with a big, fat eraser, just rubbing me out, swipe by swipe. It’s one thing to think you’re only up against up against your own demons. It’s something else entirely to be told by the guy you loved that he’s made a decision to be alone for good.