I Was Young Once

 Now, here’s an opener for you: I was young once. Not brilliant, I know, just slightly above It was a dark and stormy night (which, funnily enough, it was). So, on this very dark and very stormy night I sat at a bus stop, waiting – you guessed it – for a bus. It didn’t come. I fell into a kind of a sleep. Or maybe a stupor – which really is a kind of a sleep. Anyway, I was experiencing it, the way you do when you’re young, bored and alone. At some point, fog appeared. The night became eerie-er. I sat there, waiting it out. Eventually, someone else appeared (out of the fog that had appeared). It was a young he, penetrating my stupor with a most unusual request.

"Have you the time?" he asked, tossing his mane of wildly blond hair over his shoulder in a very gay manner.

In my stupor, the gesture went by me, unregistered.

"I'do," I perked up (taking in the wildly blond hair and the good physique).  "What do you fancy?"

He looked at me puzzled. "I fancy knowing the time, " he drily replied (without a toss or a gesture). "What is it?"

I told him truthfully I didn’t have a watch. The conversation stalled there, what with him being gay and me watchless in a stupor. So why am I telling you this? Cause I was young once.

Here’s another one. I went to a friend’s staff party one gay Christmas Eve (still being young and watchless) and met a young man there who gave me the eye. Literally.  Sat down next to me and plonked it down onto my side plate, next to my bread roll. A prosthetic eyeball, next to my bread. It stared at me in a very resigned manner; I had a feeling it was tired. Why am I telling you this? Cause I was young once. Cause stories like these are all that’s keeping the legend alive.