Have yourself a holly, jolly, crapmas

Am I being selfish and silly to be so freaking depressed right now?
I was so sure of myself when I last talked to B., trying to be mature and stoic; trying to be logical and methodical and an adult. I told myself that it was just another bump in whatever freakishly hellish road I was on; that I was unemotional enough to deal with it and let it go.
Instead, 3 days later, I am finding myself constantly on the verge of tears, like some girlyman. I keep wanting to make some grand, romantic gesture to convince him he was wrong. Hell, this morning I was only moments from jumping in the car and driving to Philly to… I dunno, stalk him?
Here I was, telling him that two months was not enough time to place so much pressure on a relationship, and I myself have to admit that two months was obviously enough time for me to make an emotional commitment.
Commitment, yes, perhaps that’s what I need. A good month or two away somewhere where the forks are dull and the crayons are fat. Where the Zoloft™ flows free.
Generally speaking, I think I give the appearance of a disconnected and unfriendly person, and of course, that’s purely because I so much want to show my emotions — but realize that is an easy way to get hurt. And I so wanted to be open with him, and was… but got hurt. I didn’t think I was that night, but here I am, blubbering and whining.
You know, I was thinking earlier about a major difference between being straight and being gay: if I was straight, I’d be married with kids by now. (If I wasn’t married by 38, people would assume I was gay, anyway.) It’s not so easy for someone who’s gay. Perhaps straight people can’t see it, because they’re part of it: a culture that, at every turn, reminds you of being straight and tries to pair you off constantly. From your co-workers to your relatives, everyone is thinking in that area.
Not so much if you’re gay. People don’t offer to set you up with someone; or if they do, they don’t have a clue what kind of person you’re looking for. They assume that gay people like every other gay person, so they want to set you up with their uber-effeminate hairdresser.
So, you muddle in on your own, and discover that, mostly because of social constructs, a lot of the guys out there (and probably yourself as well) are ill-equipped to be in a relationship of any length, and I feel certain that a part of this is because society doesn’t give same-sex relationships any support, like they do to straight relationships. Straight people, let me ask you: did you ever get a funny or disapproving look when you brought your partner to a family gathering, a social event, or public function?
Can you imagine how social constructs can eat away at a relationship when the world is disapproving?
I’m not saying that any of this has anything to do with B and myself; although I can’t be totally sure because I just never got close enough to figure out what his personal relationship fears were, and it’s not fair to guess.
It would be nice to be married at my age. I’m not getting any younger. And I often sit up in bed being moody, thinking that I might as well give up and get used to being alone. At 38, I’m ancient in the gay world; but that has much to do with the anti-relationship orientation in gay culture. A culture that has arisen as a response to society’s condemnation, a culture that says “if we can’t have sanctioned relationships, we’ll just sleep around instead.” Since I don’t do that, since I’m 38, since I am not a gym-toned hottie, well… I’m not much of anything.
At least for the last two months, I felt like I was something to somebody.

Anyone who comments on this post with any platitudes or says anything like “I’ll get better, it just takes time” will be instantly banned for life. Really. Let me wallow in the trough of self-pity and depression for at least a few more days, okay? And please don’t drop by, like my neighbor did — my eyes are puffy and I feel gross.
Next week, you can set me up with your cute friends.