The Comfort of Strangers

Rupert Everett has this new book coming out, "Red Carpets and other Banana Skins." And like most Brits, he is really introspective and on spot.
Here is an excerpt:

"Now no one wants me. Being gay and being a woman has one big thing in common, which is that we both become invisible after the age of 42. Who wants a gay 50- year-old? No one, let me tell you. I could set myself on fire in a gay bar, and people would just light their cigarettes from me. I don't want to be carried out of a club wearing a tie-dye T-shirt and a cap on the wrong way around when I am 70, but I would like to settle down a bit. Maybe with a partner. In some ways I do feel more settled, but now I want to take part in things."

Man, this is so true. I have basically come to the conclusion that I will sleep alone for the rest of my life. I saw a clip from the Janice Dickenson show and she was in Palm Springs for the 'white' or 'black' party and their were these 90 year olds in speedo's and/or thongs. It frigging made me ashamed. It's like the Iranian in the office who everyone else in the office feels the whole country of Iran is her nieces and nephews and she feels the guilt when something Iranian is mentioned.
I have the worst personal ad. I am like no Rap, no R&B, no Clubbing, no Meth, no Poppers, no 3 ways, no Name Dropping...et al
I am never going to be the older guy with the A&F t-shirt and the baseball cap on angled. I'm sure this guy gets laid, as well. It's kind of like my roommate in college who would be like, "Yeah, I got laid last night" and I would think to myself, "Yeah, you hit on over 75 girls, it was bound to happen."
I'm an asshole. I know. I'm opinionated and kind of stand off-ish. But, I still soberly cry at "The Gilmore Girls" every day, and for that, I am kinda faggy.