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Let’s all just take a moment to admire today’s houseboy before mrpeenee wanders off into another of my long-winded stories, shall we?

There, isn’t that better?  Now for a story with wind of great length:

We are in a quandary.  Our dear friend The Fashion Sensation has had Parkinson’s disease for several years; her condition has worsened dramatically over the last two years.  That would, of course, be enough to cause grave distress among her friends.  The quandary arises because of her wholehearted embrace of a string of what I think are crazyass bad decisions, to wit, quit her big shot, career defining Important Job, divorce her odd, but charming husband, and move off to a farm outside Toronto to live with some guy she met online last spring and with whom she has been conducting a torrid Skype-based affair.

And you wonder why my stories are long-winded.

I tried addressing my concerns with her, using small, firm words, particularly the one that living in Toronto would expose her to snow. But, since she grew up in some godforsaken state abutting Canadia richly supplied in frozen tundra, she apparently does not share my deep seated and wholly sensible suspicion of the stuff.

I would have expanded my objections to include the fact she has been considering this since April, but waited to spring on her unsuspecting hubby until two days before they were supposed to leave on a trip to Berlin (in January?) when he was sick in bed the fact that she has filed for divorce.  Uh, honey?  So making it hard for me to stay on your side.

Plus, I’m constantly distracted by her attempts to expand on the details of how Skype Love works between man and woman.  Why do straight women think gay men need tutorials?  I know how the plumbing operates; the rest does not need my attention.  Do I share the finer points of felching?  No.

So anyway, in a totally cowardly way, I have been avoiding conversations, even emails because I feel like if I really am convinced this is the Big Mess Express, I should have intervened and done so before now.  And tonight when she wrote to say today was her birthday and could we go out for brunch this weekend did not help the “I am Such a Bad Friend/Worm/Dog” sensation.

In my defense, let me remind the court that my good pal Brian once took me aside to warn me the guy over whom I was making a fool of myself didn’t love me, would never love me, and that I should just move on.  You can see where this is going, right?  Yes, the guy was R Man and by ignoring Brian’s advice, I opened myself to thirty years of wedded bliss.  I have ever since then been reluctant to hand out  advice.

Maybe this is The Fashion Sensation’s big, last chance at happiness.  What do I know?

I’ll tell you what I know.  The Canadian told her he wanted to take care of her.  Not was willing to.  Wanted to.  I took care of R Man at the end and it was awful, heart-breaking, exhausting work.  I’m glad I did it, for my sake as well as R’s, but to say it’s something you want?  Ick.  Plus he writes her long letters with darling water colours and drawings and pressed leaves and, I don’t know, glitter rainbows.  Probably.  Behavior I expect more from a teenage gay boy.  Not some guy I’m interested in handing over an ailing old friend.

I was going to throw this open to a vote, should I or shouldn’t I hurl myself into the breach with a loud “Get a grip honey,”  But really it’s too late.  I’ll just go to brunch and see what happens.

Instead, we can vote on which houseboy you prefer, Brock (above) or Santiago (below).

18 responses »

  1. Ilduce's quite right: oh, dear. A quandary indeed. I suppose you'll have to say something, if only to turn off the anatomical descriptions. Has she ever met The Man With The Nursing Fetish in person? Is it all Skype? If so, it's almost certainly delusional and A Very Bad Idea. And the treatment of the husband is a Very Bad Sign no matter what. I say you be tactual, but definite, if asked your opinion…


  2. I just can't decide on the houseboy of choice… Can I be piggy in the middle?

    As to your friend… We can't make choices for them…
    I know it's hard to stand by and watch a train wreck happening… despite voicing your concerns there seems to be determination behind the choices made and to “carry on regardless”… Sometimes friends just need to stand by with a supportive broom and eventually be there to help sweep up the mess…


  3. Wow, that is a lot to parse.

    So you have a friend, who is getting older, has a chronic medical condition, thinks that you don't get everything about her, and – being your friend – not know about your blog? Please! This describes most gay men I know!

    Peenee, I think and feel that this person means a great deal to you, and you are concerned about her well being and her welfare. But as we know, advice is easy to give to others but so hard to live through ourselves. And the problems of humanity would be solved IF ONLY others would look at their lives the way we do. But then again, if that were true, then we'd be living our lives through their spyglasses as well, no?

    Advice is just that. You can give it, but after you make your position clear, you have to let your friends live their own lives learn their own lessons.

    Tell your friend that you love her and your position. Ask here if she has an escape plan – if this didn't work out, how can she rescue herself if she needs to, and if that happens, does she have a plan or even thought about how she will strike out on her own.

    Then the hard part, sit back and let her live her life. A friend is one who is there when they find happiness in their decision making, a good friend who is there when things go wrong, but it a best friend who is there to help pick up the pieces without saying “I told you so.”


  4. Oh dear!
    I have found that no one ever has ever listened to any advice I've given them….and I'm a teacher.
    They only ever listen to their own advice…and then only sometimes. Sometimes, if you're lucky, that correlates somewhat with their own advice and then they come back and thank you for “giving me such good advice!”
    But you really haven't.

    Anyway, Santiago.

    Definitely Santiago….mainly because I hate the name Brock.


  5. It's my experience people who would most benefit from my advice never ask for it. I'm fully prepared to advise Bradley Cooper to get naked and bend over, but does he ever ask? No. Ingrate.


  6. Lots of my friends know about the blog but don't read it. Since that means I can gossip about them freely, I don't mind.

    And passing up the chance to say “I told you so” is something I am constitutionally unable to do. Maybe it's genetics. Since an escape plan seems to be missing, me and my broom will be there, waiting.


  7. Gonna need more than a broom to clean up after this. At the minumum a high power pressure washer, rubber boots, gloves, apron and a good respirator, but be prepared that a full body Hazmat suit may be necessary.

    Definitely Santiago


  8. Oh, dear. Friends can be such a problem… In this circumstance you do really have to sit back, let the old dear have her (final?) fling and perhaps – just perhaps – realise there's more to every story than what meets the eye. She's having a go at what perhaps we'd like Santiago to do for us – make an old gal (briefly) very happy! Jx

    PS Broom, mop, bucket, wet-wipe, shoe-shine, nude low-dusting – you'll be there for her…


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