I can do no worldly good

Does heaven have enough angels yet?

I went to the mountain equipment coop shopping for a tent and some biking gear last weekend. The store was packed on a Monday afternoon with people from work and others in the community. The layout is nice; I mean it's a big warehouse full of outdoor goods - very appropriate for the BC culture. There are rows of outdoor, weather resistant jackets; kayaks; tents; biking equipment such as lights, odometers, and other necessary items. Quaint and impressive.

I looked over some tents and looked at some great bargains on biking shirts...but than I wonder, how do they manage to sell things so cheap? There must be an overseas, underaged and overworked slave camp, pumping out all of these questionably stitched fabrics. I have major reservations about buying something that was produced by an eight year old kid trying to earn enough money to help feed the family. I refuse to be one of 'those people'.

As I approached one of the many isles I catch a familiar face in the distance. It's my ex, and he's waddling along the isles with a smirk on his face. What is this, a friend, a partner? He's with another man! Now, I know you're thinking I'm not over this guy, I mean, I disagree, it's over and has been over for a long time. I know that thanks to this break up I have gained so much perspective, have traveled, and have really made some great and needed friends in the gay community. I see him and his 'friend'.

My first reaction is to turn away and pretend I didn't notice either of them. I walk up to a grey, riding jacket and start looking over the quality, examining the stitching, and looking over the price tag. Dennis – my ex - taps me on the shoulder. As I turn, everything seems to be in slow motion, and I catch the eye of his friend, who at this point of time is directly boring a hole into my soul. I have a strong disdain for men who are so aggressive; it’s such a turn off to meet a man, who you know is gay, who has no social tact whatsoever. I’m already taken aback from the situation and am made slightly unpleasant by this forceful, social gesture.

The friend is a short man; I would say he is about five foot six, and can be easily identified as being gay. You know how some men just look gay? I mean, it's not so much his style of dress which is unfortunate for someone his age, it was his look in general and his eyes: very gay. He is also older; I would estimate the age of 40, his face is wrinkling and his eyes have crows’ feet.

Personally, I would rate this man as a mess, and thanks to my ability to be able to sum them up in less than a minute, I can assume his intelligence level is lower than average. His jeans are worn, a little baggy, and black; the rest of his outfit, I forget right now, but I can assure you it was equally as disappointing. I don’t mean to be judgmental, but a lot can be said about the way one takes care of himself.

They are two gay men, enjoying the mountain equipment coop together. Fine.

I do turn red after I look at both of them. I think when I'm put on the spot; I just tend to brake out into a bright red glow for the situation I'm thrust into. "What are you planning on buying?" he asks. My body language is apparent at this time. I'm hunched and protective; my arms are inward and protected the rest of my body. I'm not looking him in the eye, but still staring straight into the grey racing jacket. "Nothing, I'm just browsing," I say in a contorted manner. He gets the hint and moves away from me. I don't allow his partner to briefly glimpse into my soul again. Their energies are something I refuse to be around.

I'm happy for him for either finding a friend or a fuck buddy. The recipient, I'm saddened to say will have a horrible time with it all. He doesn't understand who he is dealing with, and really it's no longer my business. Sometimes I just want to scream out: “Don’t you get it, he’s a fucking loser. He will do nothing but treat you poorly, use and lie to you, and in the end dismiss you as if he had no emotional tie to you whatsoever,” but I’m thinking this is something I should save for a therapist. It’s my shit, not his.

I leave immediately after in a daze. My heart is racing, and I'm still trying to figure out why this affects me so much. I think I know why now; it's not because he has someone in his life, it's because I don't, and I'm wondering why he can, and I cannot. I'm the better person. I'm the person who doesn't want to have superficial relationships where I gain and the friend or partner slowly withers away.

As I walk up the street, I spot a fitting acquaintance. It's a guy I've known over the past few months who has had his heart broken. I see him in a daze, and he is probably still at a loss, still feeling that separation, and that guilt of no longer being with the man he once loved. We chat as we walk up the street and I get my latest encounter off my chest, and he shares a part of his struggle.

He's a nice guy but I really couldn't see it going anywhere. I'm a "one foot in, one foot out of the door" kind of guy when I deal with the gay culture. I could never fully immerse myself into it, nor would I want to. It would be the clincher on life; I would be totally absolved to defeat if I were to play that card.

I hear Vancouver's gay district always whispering into my ear. "Join us Charlie, it really isn't that bad. We have rugby, many forms of nightlife, an after hours place, and a community full of people just like you." Why wouldn't I want that identity? To no longer have to search Victoria for like-minded people. It's just a ferry ride away and I could find a job.

The fact of the matter is: that's not me. I don't think it ever will be me. If I were to live in the West End of Vancouver, I would change. The straight friends I have would dwindle away, and I would slowly become more like them, and at the same time, grasping for whatever is left of my identity after I become part of the community. I would be sharing after work martini’s with a group of like minded, educated, and reasonably comfortable gay men. They, after a while, would start telling the same stories, performing the same rites of passage and philosophical discussions that I once found intriguing. But slowly, it will no longer be random, it will be predictable and dull; once again I would have to leave myself to search out a newer form of entertainment again.

I dull of things easily - especially people - and I fear that I would dull of gay men. I would break down one day over while eating Sautéed Pumpkin Gnocchi with Duck Confit in Sage Brown Butter sauce, and just shout at my companions: “My God, you’re a bunch of fags! Can we talk about things other than sex and fixing up your trendy apartment that overlooks English Bay? I mean, guys…ok, I don’t mean to be disapproving but seriously look at your lives; you live in a fucking bubble and I hope for your sake it bursts soon. Oh my God, I’ve become one of you!” After this self-realization I would run out into the street, looking around and noticing that I live in this community; I am completely engulfed by it.

That night, after making up a open house sign, I would plan my escape. I have a low tolerance for conformity. I would sort through my closet full of pressed jeans, pants, shirts, and tight vintage t-shirts; my pile of GQ magazines; the high quality watches from both Hugo Boss and Rolex. I would wonder what it all means. The only thing I would keep is my expensive art. That is something I enjoy, and no matter what type of person I became, art will always be important.

I think it's hard enough being an individual in today’s age without having to put the social and sub-cultural pressure of being apart of the elite gay culture in Vancouver. I think it’s hard enough to just be, you know, to just be a person and make something substantial out of life without having to think about all the other bullshit any community would throw at you. It’s far outside of being gay also – don’t get me wrong – it’s religion, it’s family, it’s everything. It’s every preconceived notion as to how someone ‘normal’ should live. I wouldn’t be surprised if you are one of them.