Can a simple night out empty the closet?

I am back. For all of our sakes, I am finally over the "November is Death" thing. It is ironic that I am over it on the last day of the cursed month, but it is over. I went out with some of the boys last night. It was an evening with the frat boys, er men, after shiva time. How twisted is that?

It strikes me as some sort of attempt to recreate a fun past, if only for an evening, only to have the ugly truth smack you right in the face. It really is the joyous and dizzying wholeness that is life. How fucking new agey of me to say. I hate seeing it and saying it, but I see it. Life is one big ball of joy and sadness, it all comes and goes. That was big picture meaning of last night. A few dudes getting together to discuss the present, the past and the future.

We, 53, Sambo and Laraby, er Willie, met at a sports bar up north. As rode in 53's car, he was driving and I think it is the first time I have been in a car with him driving (odd memory but just that), I noticed how developed it had become just north of Toronto. I am not sure if I like it. I can recall with some fondness that to see a ton of stars on a clear night, all you had to do was drive up to Rutherford Road. There was nothing there and it was real dark (nothing means no strip malls and concrete and houses) so you could gaze at the stars. No more. The street was chock full of strip malls, big box stores and lights.

The place was cool. A ton of huge screen televisions, pool tables, virtual reality games and off track betting (I think). We just talked about life and laughed a lot. Given the number of our contemporaries that have "suddenly" passed away lately, the topic of conversation turned to the medical and the need/desire for annual physicals (I was thinking with a physician but I guess it could mean with some dude in an alleyway, too, though that is not for me) and the dreaded prostate exam.

It got me thinking, which is always a dangerous thing. Should I ask for foreplay? A little wining and dining? The scary thing is that my doctor was my father's doctor and I can see him asking that same question before the doc stuck his gloved, at least I hope it was gloved, finger up my father's ass. How eerie would that be for him? Then again, fuck his feeling of "eerieness", the bastard has his finger up my butt. Suddenly, I have become his ventroquilist dummy. How degrading?

The second thought is what if I enjoy it? If the revulsion turns to unbridled pleasure, where would that leave me sexually speaking? Is that latent homosexuality calling? Has my life been a lie? My whole world will come down on me all because the doctor unlocked a forbidden door. It is more frightening to think that the key to the forbidden door is a latex covered finger.

Then again, if I enjoy it, I can always buy the wife a strapon and go from there. I guess my whole world may not come down on me. Then again, it may. Then again, who cares? Take the finger like a man (not sure I like how that sounds in a prison setting sort of way), get it over with and rule out any prostatic abnormalities. Do I ask the doc if it was good for him, too, afterwards? Again, I can see my father uttering the same phrase.

Well, I am done for today. The lad needs to type something up for school. Ciao!