Twenty-three Skidoo!

I have a confession to make. It's my 23rd birthday and it's a big deal. You see, 23 in gay years is actually about 48.7 years old. Meaning I'm damn near middle age. So, in the interest of my blog and to free up time for drinking myself young again, I'm gonna start my mid-life crisis now. Since I already drive a purple convertible and have a trophy boyfriend who's younger than me, I guess the only thing left to do is complain about my lost youth. And because I'm classy, I shall do it with dignity and honor.

Ahem. *Clears throat*

*Begins emoting like Faye Dunaway in Mommy Dearest*

It's not fair! Why are you doing this to me?! I used to be young and beautiful! Look at this! See this hairline?! No? Because it's being eaten by my forehead! See these eyes? They're carrying more baggage than the queens on RuPaul's Drag Race! I have bills to pay! Rent to make! I'm monogamous!!! When did this happen?! How did I go from ravishing heart-breaker to bloated, old, bald queen?! Why?! WHY!?!?

Ahem. *Pats down hair* *Settles*

Whew. That was cathartic. In all honesty, I'm truly blessed to have made it this far in life and to have done as well as I have, considering how many big mistakes I've made. While it sucks to look back and realize I'm one year closer to being "that creepy old guy at the club", it's amazing how far I've come. And how many people supported me and guided me along the way. And I think I may be ready for the next 23. After all, I still have plenty of confessions left to make.