In which FHC celebrates hug a lawyer day

Mark H. and Carlos U. just interpreted for me by e-mail the lawyer’s mortel chant du cygne. This traditional desperate complaint usually takes place on Janaury 2^nd when your average gay lawyer in his early [late] thirties (approximately 80% of the gay community here… the other 20% being constituted of real estate crooks and waiters which weren’t admitted to Law Schools as well as some college students I never meet) is reminded that he wasted his best years in law school only to be caught in an endless cycle of hard work, business lunches, gym and delusion. NDLR: lawyers have to go to the gym really often because like most depressive professions, practicing the Law is directly correlated to obesity. What a bitter fraud the lawyer thingy is. The firm let him a few days off for New Year and then an obscure President kindly passed away but right when he starts once again to feel the sweet taste of freedom and flap his wrinkly yellowish wings, the firm mercilessly catches him by his throat and calls him back. He partied freely, interacted with non-lawyer human beings perhaps even managed to get laid without too much difficulties in the big Cobalt New Year confusion and he does not want to return to his dark office where he has to justify every minute of his time to football obsessed partners. He discovers for the first time with unmitigated horror that he would have been so much happier if he had stuck with his original plan of using wisely his political science bachelor’s degree in his father’s grocery store in rural Alabama or to be a school teacher in his Mormon community back in Utah. But no, he felt the need to compensate the fact that he was gay by becoming an incredibly successful and financially secure lawyer Mummy could be proud of and brag about in her tupperware meetings back home. His secret hope is that with all this money and his granite kitchen countertop, he at least will manage to date some cute artsy twink which will provide him in the evening with the fun missing in his career….but no he won’t…because he’ll end up with another overweight yellow faced lawyer with droopy eyes. Laywers have to mate together because only a lawyer can deal with the insane hours, a complete absence of conversation or cultural interest as well as the endless social interaction with straight couples of the firm in order to maybe make partner one day. And for all the whining gay lawyers, how many anonymous straight lawyerly lives of quiet desperation are spent in the thousands of law firms in Washington, DC so if you have a lawyer next to you (and you do) give him a big fat hug.

FHC, Esq.

Comments

[Ernesto]

please stop making my roommate cry. it keeps me up at night.

[Mark H.]

Hey weinerdog, I did indeed get laid NYE. Sorry that meant I could not return your drunken texts from 4:29 and 5:01 A.M. begging for sex. Maybe you'll get lucky next year though!

[Russ W.]

Mark H. and 32 minutes of sex, not likely!

[Tristan]

Well Mark, the text messages were actually for Ernesto. As you declined to give me his number, I thought you’d relay them.

[Aatom]

Finally, I made the list! I've always wondered what pithy phrase you would use to describe me. This seems wildly appropriate, given my fondness for the Marxist maxim that I would not want to participate in any club that would have me as a member. And now Fagat has re-instated me, so you can safely give me the boot as well!