Mercury Poisoning Part 7

         

          So I am at my best friend's house not too long ago when I tell her I think it might be time to look for a mate.

That's exactly how I word it: "I think it's time to look for a mate.' Like I'm a chimpanzee or something, right? But it's

the honest truth. I've come to the realization that I am just so tired of being alone. I'm lonely. It sounds so sad and

pathetic, I know, and rather loserly as well, but I think it's high time to call a spade a fucking spade, man. I'm no

spring chicken and I think I'd like some adult male companionship before I officially become a wizened old crow.

Hell, I may be one already. But I don't think so. I guess if that has to involve human contact and yes, maybe even

sex, I have to buck up and deal with it. The million dollar question is: How and where will I meet said companion?

I go to work, I go home, I hang out with my kids, and occasionally I go to my best friend's house for Scrabble. On

this particular night we're playing Scrabble and listening to Queen ( my friend picks this night to inform me that

Freddie Mercury always kind of "freaked her out" a little- she elaborates no further and I let it slide) and just

brainstorming. I find myself really fucking depressed over the prospect of trying to snag a man at this stage in

my life. I mean, I had man problems years ago when I was a hell of a lot cuter, younger, and yes, smaller. What

the hell kind of degenerate can I hope to attract now? My prospects seem dismal at best.


          So my best friend asks me, well what kind of things do you like to do? Maybe you can meet someone that

way. So I put on my thinking cap and here's what I come up with: I have been wanting to take this class to learn

how to knit...and I really enjoy my volunteering at a local HIV / AIDS clinic in Cleveland...and my last visit to a club

was to catch a drag show at a gay bar downtown. I went there stoked to see the queens, by the way, but quickly

realized it was the drag KINGS who owned the place that night- fabulous! It goes without saying, of course, that a

million wild horses could not drag me kicking and screaming into a straight bar. Oh, and for some odd reason I

find myself fascinated by beautiful flowers lately. Perhaps I will join a gardening club. My best friend is my best

friend because I don't ever have to explain my sometimes strange line of thought to her and I know she loves me

just the way I am, and she just kind of smiles at me and states, "I'm thinking maybe you're not quite ready yet."


          I think back to junior high, me and this girl some twenty-five years ago, just trolling the neighborhood streets

together looking for trouble and if we got lucky, finding it. We lived right on Lake Erie and man did the winters get

cold, but even that didn't stop us. I can see us now in my mind's eye: Our hair is long and feathered,every strand

sprayed into submission. We are wearing so much war paint we look like straight- up hookers and our jeans are

so tight we had to literally pull the zippers up with a coat hanger- think 10 pounds of sausage in five pound casing.

We've got oversized white Nike hightops on our feet and flannels on under our coats ( the so- called "grunge look"

had nothing on Cleveland, by the way- we were rockin' the flannel in grade school ) and on this particular night,

we've also got a decent sized joint we managed to beg off a friend whose mom had a pot dealing boyfriend,

lucky for her. We've also got her sweet old dog that we are purportedly "walking". But it's so fucking cold and

we've got this nice fatty so we find a phone booth- a phone booth, what a blast from the past!- and all three of

us pile in there so we can smoke up and I really hope the poor dog didn't get a contact high, but I kind of bet

she did and I feel bad about it now, but what's done is done. As it turns out, it's really good weed and it takes a

minute for me to realize my friend has stepped out of the booth and fallen smack dab into a big snow drift. I'm

looking down at her and she's smiling up at me and I then very eloquently ask, "Dude, did you fall?". This is

apparently the funniest thing the two of us have ever fucking heard and we just can't stop laughing and repeating

it over and over as I help her up and she wipes snow off her ass. We then carry on down the road together and

the poor dog probably thinks we're idiots and you know what? We kinda are! And I wouldn't want it any other

way.