Post Pride

I ended up staying in on Friday, trying to decompress from another depressing week at work. Saturday, though, I managed to get house things done in the early part of the day. The plan was to meet up with a friend to go see Mel C and Dragonette at the mainstage with some wandering and general meandering.

Best laid plans, and all. 

On the way, I ran into someone I was hoping to hook up with, that I'd been flirting with online, and he'd already hooked up with someone else I've always thought was hot. It's a special kind of knife in the ribs when two people who interest  you are only interested in each other.

My friend and I did see Mel C (who can really sing and sounds really good live). But at the stage area, we ran into the guy my friend is in the process of splitting with after a long relationship. So, when we hung with him and because the friends he was supposed to meet never showed, when Mel C ended, rather than go anywhere we just sat around with him. Which, I understand and have no ill will about. If it was someone I loved that much, I wouldn't want him to just sit there by himself either. But I wanted to be out, be seen, see if I could meet any of the people I haven't actually connected with in real life yet. We just sat there listening to endless crappy filler acts, waiting for Dragonette, who went on almost an hour and a half late, and only did 4 songs because everyone was cutting their sets short because of the delays. Blah.  So, the combination of standing too long and then sitting too long left me with aching legs and one of my patented passive aggressive funks.

Though as we were walking to Carlton so I could catch the streetcar home, I ran into one of those people I haven't met in real life yet. And he was beautiful. The kind of guy that makes my heart go ka-thunk. He's less than half my age and I have no idea if we have anything in common, or if he just thinks of me as that dirty old man who keeps hitting on him on Facebook. But that moment of sheer, dizzy chemistry was nice.

But then the streetcar diverted and I missed my connection and ended up walking home from Broadview.

Today was the parade, which always is an intense emotional experience for me. I actually get kinda teary at the depth of energy that flows off people. I hate it when people get cynical about it.  I wish I could hold onto that feeling all year around, that high of energy.

Oh, and for the Doctor Who/Torchwood geeks on my flist, John Barrowman was on one of the floats.

But the feeling didn't hold and none of the people who said they might come and find me (I'm always at the same disability viewing stand) never did. So I just walked through the post parade crowd of gawkers and tourists (having their pictures taken with drag queens and gogo boys) and headed home. I did run into some friends here and there.

But I never made out with any boys, or as far as I could tell, registered even slightly on anyone's hot list.

So, my post pride letdown is hitting hard in the place I'm most sensitive. It's not that no one loves me, I have wonderful friends. But I have no one who loves me like that. No one who loves me enough to make someone else come last and me first. I'm the second runner up. And Miss Congeniality all rolled into one. The one no one can believe is still single, and yet who no one wants to be with.

And I know what the problem is: I try too hard and want too much. Always have. And that's not the kind of spotlight anyone wants to step into.

I know it's just end of the party blahs. And waiting on news of the possible new job. And terrible morale at the current job that's making it all seem worse.

But performing solo isn't fun sometimes.

Post Pride

I ended up staying in on Friday, trying to decompress from another depressing week at work. Saturday, though, I managed to get house things done in the early part of the day. The plan was to meet up with a friend to go see Mel C and Dragonette at the mainstage with some wandering and general meandering.

Best laid plans, and all. 

On the way, I ran into someone I was hoping to hook up with, that I'd been flirting with online, and he'd already hooked up with someone else I've always thought was hot. It's a special kind of knife in the ribs when two people who interest  you are only interested in each other.

My friend and I did see Mel C (who can really sing and sounds really good live). But at the stage area, we ran into the guy my friend is in the process of splitting with after a long relationship. So, when we hung with him and because the friends he was supposed to meet never showed, when Mel C ended, rather than go anywhere we just sat around with him. Which, I understand and have no ill will about. If it was someone I loved that much, I wouldn't want him to just sit there by himself either. But I wanted to be out, be seen, see if I could meet any of the people I haven't actually connected with in real life yet. We just sat there listening to endless crappy filler acts, waiting for Dragonette, who went on almost an hour and a half late, and only did 4 songs because everyone was cutting their sets short because of the delays. Blah.  So, the combination of standing too long and then sitting too long left me with aching legs and one of my patented passive aggressive funks.

Though as we were walking to Carlton so I could catch the streetcar home, I ran into one of those people I haven't met in real life yet. And he was beautiful. The kind of guy that makes my heart go ka-thunk. He's less than half my age and I have no idea if we have anything in common, or if he just thinks of me as that dirty old man who keeps hitting on him on Facebook. But that moment of sheer, dizzy chemistry was nice.

But then the streetcar diverted and I missed my connection and ended up walking home from Broadview.

Today was the parade, which always is an intense emotional experience for me. I actually get kinda teary at the depth of energy that flows off people. I hate it when people get cynical about it.  I wish I could hold onto that feeling all year around, that high of energy.

Oh, and for the Doctor Who/Torchwood geeks on my flist, John Barrowman was on one of the floats.

But the feeling didn't hold and none of the people who said they might come and find me (I'm always at the same disability viewing stand) never did. So I just walked through the post parade crowd of gawkers and tourists (having their pictures taken with drag queens and gogo boys) and headed home. I did run into some friends here and there.

But I never made out with any boys, or as far as I could tell, registered even slightly on anyone's hot list.

So, my post pride letdown is hitting hard in the place I'm most sensitive. It's not that no one loves me, I have wonderful friends. But I have no one who loves me like that. No one who loves me enough to make someone else come last and me first. I'm the second runner up. And Miss Congeniality all rolled into one. The one no one can believe is still single, and yet who no one wants to be with.

And I know what the problem is: I try too hard and want too much. Always have. And that's not the kind of spotlight anyone wants to step into.

I know it's just end of the party blahs. And waiting on news of the possible new job. And terrible morale at the current job that's making it all seem worse.

But performing solo isn't fun sometimes.