Hi! Do you remember blogs? Well, this used to be one. Now it just serves as an archive for my multiple Twitter accounts.
I recently found out I’m referenced on a French gay sites directory. I’m even the only site in the blogs section. It’s nice (even though I feel kinda lonely there) and they do send a fair number of visitors here every day (well, not like millions, but half a dozen is something). But I want to object to a little part of the description they made:
He’s obssessed with his age (27 years!). (I suppose the exclamation mark denotes how stupid of me it is—or is it the opposite?) And it’s just wrong. I want a refund. Ok, I didn’t pay, I didn’t ask. But I still demand a rectification. Let me call my lawyers. Oh, wait, I’ve got a blog, so I might as well write my corrections here.
First, I’m not 27. I will only be next week.
Then, I’m not obsessed with my age. I don’t really care about turning 27. I don’t think I’m old, I dont examine my reflection in the mirror to spot the newest wrinkle, I haven’t got problems with age itself. What’s wrong is what I’ve made of those twenty-seven years. 27. That’s an age when you’re not allowed anymore to be a parasite living in the back room and pillaging his parents’ fridge. An age when you just can’t stand there, without the least project for your future. When you it’s not legitimate not to do anything constructive in order to change the situation. Late, lazy students can be 26. They can’t be 26.
That’s why I’m upset by the thought of an upcoming birthday. I can deal with getting old. But not here, like that. I still have exactly nine days to find an income, an apartment, a husband and a dog. Afterwards it’ll be too late. Last year, I launched my blog to see if I was able to write, and I lost thirty pounds to see if I was able to look good. This year, I’ll have to beat that, make even better achievements, and I’ve got absolutely no idea what they can be. Besides, with the two December job offers that eventually fell apart, I can’t say I’m quite enthusiastic about the way this year has begun.
I’m still waiting for a sign.
(Ok, so I spent the first weeks of the year not being single. Maybe it won’t be such a bad year after all.)