Friday, June 27, 2003

Sensitive Guy

I went to a rally on the steps of City Hall last night, to celebrate the repeal of Texas' anti-sodomy laws. I got the chance to meet and hug the two guys who were arrested back in 1998, and ended up explaining the whole series of events and legislation to various bemused straight people, who happened upon the rally while idly strolling through downtown Houston, only to suddenly find themselves surrounded by several hundred ecstatic homosexuals. It was quite an emotional situation: the rally itself, and Mr. Texas Leather telling me how much he enjoyed the article I wrote about him for OutSmart Magazine. There's nothing like a big ol' southern leatherdaddy handing me compliments to get me all atwitter and giggly.

On a side note, I have turned into such a crybaby.

It all started when I finally saw "My Big Fat Greek Wedding." I'm not sure what exactly came over me, but I started bawling halfway through the wedding, and didn't stop until half an hour after the movie was over. Just when I got myself under control, Jack opened a jar of olives, and I started weeping uncontrollably again.

Last night, Jack and I were watching the second Harry Potter movie -- "Harry Potter and the Magical Cashcow" or whatever it was called -- and during the final scene, when Hagrid comes into the dining hall and everyone cheers for him, I started sniffling. Jack asked if I was crying. I replied, "Of course not." Right then, a single tear rolled down my cheek. Much cursing at the sorry state of my natural stoicism ensued.

The thing is, I was a big cryer when I was a child, and I got picked on a lot for it. I finally had enough of it, so right before puberty kicked in, I swore I would never cry again. And I didn't. I stayed dry-eyed for almost ten years, and since then, I've only actually cried twice (once when my dog died, and once during a mindbendingly frustrating argument with a psychotic ex-boyfriend). Sudddenly, I'm tearing up at everything: I spent my morning drive to work struggling to keep from blubbering during a broadcast of a Stonewall Riots documentary on Democracy Now.

I'm sure this is all just stress taking its toll on my psyche, and I know that in a modern progressive society, it is pefectly acceptable for a grown man to freely express his emotions, but I hate crying. Hate it hate it hate it.

Anyhow, back to work. My new boss just called and asked me how to write a press release. Good times... good times...

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