FHC’s resurrected blog

In which FHC decides to be more proactive in his dating life

I decided to change the “About me” section of my myspace profile as my circumstances changed a little and I have the feeling that the whole “myspace is the only way to have casual sex these days” was not flying too well. Here is the endearing portrait I came up with:

I am a bitter hypochondriac middle-aged immoral European. Of my 13,5 ex-boyfriends, only two are still in speaking terms with me and on average they rate their relationship with me as “Moderately Unsatisfactory”. One referred to me as being “an unbearable egotist”. I only know a third of my myspace friends (the trashy third…the shirtless ones). I am clean now but have a long history of prescription (including painkillers and antibiotics), non-prescription and over-the-counter drug abuse. I still take propecia and about 6 Advil a week though. I also pour myself one cocktail when I return from the office to my dark basement apartment in the evening. I tried to read one book in 2006, the “fountainhead”: about 20 pages before the end, I placed it on my bedroom’s shelf (which was almost empty by then) and never re-opened it. I think this episode illustrates pretty well my entire character. I need a minimum of 9 hours of sleep or my eyes get really really puffy (do you think I might have a thyroid problem? I think that too). Financially I spent more money last year than I made and I am a renter. For a poor and mildly successful young man, I am oddly snobbish and contemptuous of others. My most common emotions are hatred, mockery and jealousy. Most of my social life consists in crashing parties I was purposely not invited to. I only learnt how to drive last year. I am a relatively active member of Results the gym. I approach my thirties (slowly, really slowly) but still had some acne on my face for New Year’s eve and on Christmas Eve some girl told me I looked 34. I am becoming increasingly effeminate every year. If there was a movie about my life, I’d like Parker Posey to get the main role. By the way, I only have one female friend and we don’t get on well at all. I am becoming increasingly promiscuous and some acquaintance recently accused me of relying “on cute mispronunciations and odd phraseologies to […] get laid”. Well he had written “phrasiologies” but I wikipediated it. My favorite dish is veal tongue. You get the picture. Please contact me only if you're SERIOUS about getting married. I'll call you within 30 minutes.

In which FHC did not sleep enough last night

When 6:53 p.m. comes around and you haven’t even started to blog or think about blogging because your day sucked badly, your options are usually limited. You can either :

i)                    write something horrible yet witty about some minor DC gay celebrity who happens to looks like Boy George and that you saw at Cobalt on Saturday (but you’ll eventually have to deal with the sordid repercussions and it’s not like you can afford many other enemies in town). I’ll tell you over dinner though.;

ii)                   tell the bitter story of how Mark H. (who gets a little violent when he is drunk which is every time I saw him) sliced you leg on New Year’s eve and since then you have been hopping on the street (on a more positive note, this very good looking kid, Nick L. stood up for us so it’s all good);

iii)                 not blog at all (but then your ex assumes that you committed suicide and you get pity collect calls from Cozumel);

iv)                 make a list of the people you slept with in the last few weeks and then grade them (but you run into the same consequences than i); or

v)                  make a little review of what’s going on in the blogosphere.

So just a few days after both Fagat and I decided that it was time to eliminate vividblurry from our blogroll, he came back. He apparently obsessively blogs about Broadway tunes and is 26 ponds heavier. The jackal was betrayed which is both sad and entertaining. Also he got new furniture so I feel it must compensate on some level. Kia is all good in her PJs. Also I noticed that Ben’s ex too is commenting on Ben’s entries, so you see LL it’s all safe and healthy. Which also makes me think, that it’s amazing how people in the blogosphere are really single these days.

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.

In which FHC is a little serious for once

Shame on me for not blogging on New Year’s Day, that’s no way to start the new year. I watched Babel this evening which is an excellent movie with very good acting and that I strongly command you to see before it is completely replaced by Dreamgirls or whatever is the name of that little gay movie you are all raving about. Anyway here are a few serious words to start the New Year:

Blogging about my life and particularly the months with LL was not only a self-centered and exhibitionist enterprise, it was also a way to record my life events and be able to step back from each day details to describe the way I felt at the time. When I read the 2006 entries, I don’t only see my usual cynical or depressive outlook on things; I also see the silver-lining behind everyday’s contrarieties and sometimes bigger obstacles (like running my boat in National or getting a divorce for that matter). I lived great adventures in 2006, was blessed with a fulfilling relationship, great friendships, amazing trips and happy moments. Clearly much more than I had hoped for. As I glance back at the memories I feel that these months were worth living and worth blogging. As 2007 starts, it makes me feel hopeful and reassured. With the passing of time all wounds heal and what’s left are the happy memories.

I am sure I’ll get to record more in 2007 and that you'll still be around. Cheers.