Holding Out
I miss my roommate Amy very dearly since I moved to the big mega-whatever that is Toronto.  She was the person I talked to when the relationship world crapped on me for the however many times it did and I acted in the same capacity for her.  It was like our life played out like the movie, "The Object Of My Affection" . . . except for the romantic tension, child and dance lessons (she took the dance lessons and I just speaker danced with her).  It almost seems too perfect that we get along the way we do as a gay man and a straight girl.
	We are now forced to the long distance grief affair where we have to explain our woes of the week.  Don't get me wrong, we talk about everything, burning cars, single nuts and all, but we're not the stereotype that gets portrayed of the flaming homosexual fruit and fag hag floosy.  No we're just Amy and Steven and it's a hard thing for people to render in their heads, let alone when it plays in front of them.
So here we are, forty hours away and I think both of us are in need of something new in our lives (a.k.a. a relationship).   We've had our doozies in the past, boy I can tell you and we're bound to do the same for years to come.  We even made a pact that if we're both dreadfully single by the time we're seventy, we'll get married just for sheer sake that we'll know by that time that we're both pathetic when it comes to men.
Yes, men suck.  We both know that and in most cases, not in the happy way we want them too.  We both have had our instances of that in the way not too distant present.  She just dumped for the second time her boyfriend, which in most cases I couldn't be happier.  She'll be listening to my story of a guy who thought a friend was someone you played with like we were children.  Okay I'm in a pissy mood, but we'll leave the experience for now.
I think the worst problem about the relationship between Amy and myself is that we both know what the other wants in a relationship yet somehow we can't translate this to the right person.  Sometimes I think we feel like Helen Keller and Anne Sullivan.  The guys we want in life are breaking the furniture up in the room and we're perfectly signing back and forth to each other, "yeah another one bit the dust";.  I think sometimes it feels like a game of "who can be more pathetic", but most times we just look at the guys.
This is the sad dilemma of a straight girl and a gay man.  We represent everything that society prides itself as being common.  We communicate well, love each other dearly and could live together with ease and without the worry of breaking up or cheating on each other.  Now if only we could get over the fact that we are completely attracted in a platonic sense and the world would be a better place.
I have my copy of "The Object Of My Affection" stacked in my pile of movies, but as much I would like to watch it, the movie isn't the same without her around to share it with.  We may complain about our relationships on a minute-by-minute basis, but somehow we always know we have one relationship that feels good with exactly what we want out of it.  I miss you Amy!