In the end, all we're looking for is someone to love.
Whether it’s the Tweaked-Out Club Queen hooking up with a stranger in a bar bathroom, the Closet-Case Frat Boy just looking for a secret night of no-strings-attached fun or the Hopeless Romantic Sex Columnist deemed a “man whore” by the masses, we’re all just looking for love in a beautifully cruel world where we’re barraged with poisonous reminders of how alone we are.
And I’m just like any other single gay guy looking for a little love on the Fourteenth of February. Because pulling the bed sheets over for a party of one hurts just the same regardless if you're gay, straight, male or female.
I can’t say I speak directly for any of the Club Queens, Closeted Frat Boys or, God knows, any of the straight people reading this right now, but many of us have no one to blame but ourselves for our solitude and subsequent self-loathing on this day of red-and-pink-infused celebration of love.
Promiscuity and the “Single-Lady life” can only provide the breath of life to an otherwise unfulfilling quest to be loved for so long.
And then the ugly truth settles in.
This isn’t love, and it never will be. No amount of back-alley blow jobs or secret sexual encounters with men who already have boyfriends will ever amount to that special, unique Valentine’s Day kind of affection and romanticism that transcends any kind of sexual orientation, gender or race.
Now after nearly 2 1/2 years of the single life, I think I can finally speak for all of you when I say, this isn’t what we want, especially when Sunday rolls around.
So, until he comes until my life, the man who will one day embody every dream I have for my life, I expect there will be plenty more nights spent with bowls of chocolate pudding while watching “I Love Lucy” reruns in my pajamas.
Until then, like many of you, I’ll keep praying for him.
Happy Valentine’s Day, boys.
