HHH

Hazy, Hot, and Humid.

My all time favorite weather conditions. And we've had day after day of it this week. Walking Faithful Companion at night feels like moving through water, the air is so heavy.

And that's good. That's what's sustaining me right now.

Yep. That's right. Another Bad Period.

How'm'I doin'? Well, I'll tell ya.

Broke. Lonely. Single. Unhappy. Trapped. Not having a good week. No word at all from the folks I sent my resume to. So hard up I'll have to forego cigars and stick to iced tea or something at Starbucks for the next two weeks. Extended myself to those two guys I talked about, and neither one has shown much interest. Did meet a hot man at the Raven last Saturday night, but, alas, he has a verrry strong penchant for raunch. As in manstink. And that never works for me. Not with my extreme aversions to smells of any kind and that hair-trigger gag reflex of mine. But I'll be open. Maybe that's negotiable with him. Beggars, as they say, can't be choosers.

I was watching "Kept" last night, my latest television obsession. The thing on VH1 where Jerry Hall puts a bunch of doofuses through their paces, to see which one will get to spend a year as her "kept man." The dramatic interest is provided by the fact that she's looking for someone to carry her bags through Heathrow, and the guys are thinking Jerry will be the winner's girlfriend.

But anyway, it occured to me that I would sweep the field. I can talk art. I can cook. I have table manners. I'm considerate. I'm a good conversationalist. I'm adventurous. I speak french, italian, some russian, some italian, and a little german. I'm handy around the house at such diverse tasks as flower arranging and welding. I can dress well when I want to. I give one hell of a massage. I'd make a great kept man.

Or, y'know, a boyfriend.

Or, y'know, a boy.

Or, even, a Sir.

Although, the conundrum is this. Both of the Current Men Of Interest are New Yorkers. And the basic rule of romance in NYC is that there's always somebody standing behind you, with a better body, better mind, better job, better apartment, better car, better everything. And at the same time, even though--summoning all the modesty I can here--I tend to rock the Bike Stop and the Raven when I stick my head in there, finding a man who both turns my crank sexually and with whom I don't mind having a conversation is statistically so improbably as to be just about beyond the realms of possibility.

Anyway.

Thank the Lord it's sweltering hot. That makes anything endurable.

(Like it's news to you that I'm twisted? C'mon.)

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