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 For the last couple of weeks I’ve been feeling this kind of restlessness that, I guess, has come from familiarity and routine.
It’s not anything one might consider to be major, but it has been gradually gnawing at me to the point that it now seems there isn’t anything else but it. As a result, I feel boredom and flatness with things that I once used to feel quite excited about: work, hobbies, even writing. Is this the doldrums? Sometimes I feel this urge just to yell. But since I don’t do screaming (I laugh my head off at theme park rides while everyone else is breaking their voice boxes from shrieking), I went drinking and binging instead. My mate Scott spent the weekend with me in camaraderie. We both demolished a large pizza and I did my best to down a bottle of bourbon while he polished off a bottle of wine. At the same time, we watched a movie titled Across the Universe. A quirky, Beatles-inspired musical set during the height of the Vietnam War, I can best describe it as a cross between Rent, Grease and High School Musical, tripped up on acid. I think it was halfway during one of the film’s song and dance numbers set in a dark and dingy underground New York bar that Scott turned to me and asked how exciting it would have been if we were both in our twenties during the 60s. That set off a spirited conversation on the kind of shenanigans we could have gotten up to. Pretty much the same kind that we do now: drinking, dancing, perving at boys. That’s the thing I really like about Scott. I didn’t tell him why I felt like stuffing my face and getting troll-eyed but he went along with it anyway. I sensed that he knew something was up and yet still didn’t feel the need to prod and ask. But that’s not to say that he wouldn’t pull me up when I deserved it. I would have gotten myself in plenty more trouble if it wasn’t for him. Scott has saved my arse from embarrassment many times. There are many stories out there in our community of gay friendships, some long-lasting, some short-lived and all as varied as the people themselves. Ultimately, whatever kind or category of friend a person has, there is one thing that is beyond doubt: that true friendship comforts, grounds and inspires. The rest of the evening with Scott was spent half-watching the movie, talking and trying to keep ourselves from chucking up the alcohol and junk we’d consumed. Eventually, I’d had enough and dragged myself to the spare bed. Waking up in the morning, I didn’t feel like the world had magically changed, nor that the things niggling at me had completely disappeared. But I felt a little better. Sometimes you don’t really need anything complicated or profound to find the kind of solace you sorely need. Sometimes all it really takes is to shoot the shit with your best mate. Have you spoken to yours today?
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Opinion 
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