My friend turned to me on Saturday night.
There was noise, but not much. I could hear her. There were blinking lights, but they were deadened in our part of the dance hall by the intruding foyer lights. I could see her. Wow, I thought, your wife is lucky to have you - you are a beautiful person.
She was speaking. I was listening.
- I've finally found somebody else like you!
- What do you mean?
- An optimistic gay man!
How unfortunate that it took you this long. Also, am I completely optimistic? Do I deserve such a title.
- And I want you to meet him, and I want you to marry him.
- Wait a moment; this is just unfair. Tell me more. Excitement.
- He is from the Ukraine. He came to the Pride Centre office yesterday - you remember that meeting I told you I had with some guy I didn't know and you told me you hoped it went well, and that you'd care more if the youth in question was a high school student because you're a jerk like that - and he started talking and I talked back and he was talking about how his parents don't like him being gay and how he didn't care and how he just needed a place to talk about being gay because he didn't have any gay friends in Canada yet... but he is crazy optimistic... she continued.
I thought, my favourite book I have read this year was set in the Ukraine... I am listening...
And thinking, maybe, just maybe I've gotten somewhere. I'm one of the optimistic one's. And there are so many of and so few of us...
