Being gay for me as always been depressing. To grow up never imagining a real relationship as one is surrounded by constant reminders that your very attractions are wrong. The dating scene seems to only be established online, and they refuse to see you as more than a sexual object; the protocols of top or bottom and "what do you get into?" The high standards and the low expectations. The feelings of loneliness as all of your heterosexual friends find love and develop families. You enter adulthood in a brave new world of legalized gay marriage but you can't help but be cynical about the entire thing. Afterall, where would you ever meet this dream lover? Most will never approach you and you'd never approach them. The good ones seem to already be in relationships but then again, you had a threesome with that couple last week. What hope is there left if even the couples seem to be at the clubs? Does anyone in the land of promiscuity want an actual committed relationship? Being gay is like being invisible, or at least that's my story. He could be as charming as he wants to be, but the Prince never seems to show up. Love is a word I've often only used in reference to my parents, I've never thought it could take on another meaning. I never envisioned holding hands and worrying over wedding plans. It's not that I don't want it, it's just that it doesn't seem possible. I've been told that guys like me aren't relationship material. You're too quirky, you have nothing going for yourself, who could take you seriously? I've tried to wear masks. Tried to simmer myself down but my water always boils. I'm colorful and I embrace myself. Maybe what we need to do is marry ourselves first. Waiting for a galloping horse has only brought me to wasted months with guys who say sweet things in the bedroom but can barely look me in the eye in public. The rammifications of being me. I dream of a honeymoon in Hawaii complete with a guy who likes every quirky aspect of the craziness that is my mind. But it's just a dream. Romance doesn't happen on this side of the tracks. For now, I cynically attend other people's weddings, take a shot of vodka and write my poetry.