Christmas Eve

by Steve Rider



The music was so loud I could hardly hear my phone ringing. As it turned out, it wasn't ringing after all, it must have been a sound in the background of the music. Depeche Mode, "Policy of Truth", it has a very special meaning to me. Sometimes I hear a song and it almost seems like it was written just for me. I took a cup of this morning's coffee, cold now, and zapped it in the microwave. One cube of sugar, a plastic spoonful of nondairy creamer, and then back to my chair. In front of the BBS that has been idle for well over an hour now. Christmas Eve, 10 AM, sheer absolute total boredom.

No gifts left to wrap, no last minute shopping to do, no-one on their way over to visit, no meals to prepare. My children already have their gifts, they are sitting under a tree three thousand miles east of my favorite chair. They will call me tommorrow morning, full of excitement, eager to tell of the gifts they received. I'll be smiling and glad to hear from them, then I will hang up the phone and be alone again. Depeche Mode is over, the CD changer goes to the next disc, The Pet Shop Boys, very gay.

 
        "Just give me one more
         One more chance"
          -- Pet Shop Boys
My mind drifts back to Christmases past. Little children's faces lit up with joy. Excitement, hugs, kisses. I miss them so much. I have a new life now, a new home, I've adopted a "lifestyle" as some people like to say. The term bothers me, it implies a choice where none has been made. I'm simply being the person that I always was. At times I am very happy, I have some very good friends. Just now they are out of town, or they have plans, or something. I don't see anyone here but a middle aged guy who likes to smile at people. Sometimes I smile at the mirror to stay in practice.

The light above my monitor flashes, ring pulses on the BBS line, a call coming in to The Closet Door. Oh joy. The caller cannot get his name and password right in three tries and my modem hangs up on him. I feel so flat, so empty, there is something I want that I do not have. I want to wake up in the morning and see him sleeping next to me, and lie very still, watching his chest move as he breathes. I wonder if he is out there somewhere ? Is it too late ? Have I missed all of my chances ? Only time will tell. Sometimes I sit down in my favorite chair and I put my favorite keyboard on my lap intending to write a certain sort of a thing, and what I type surprises me. This is not a love story is it ?

 
        "You dress me up
         I'm your puppet
         You buy me things
         I love it
 
         You bring me food
         I need it
         You give me love
         I feed it
  
         And look at the two of us
         In sympathy
         With everything we see
         I never want anything 
         It's easy
         You buy whatever I need
         Look at my hopes
         Look at my dreams
         The currency we've spent
         I love you
         You pay my rent
          -- Pet Shop Boys
There have been a few people here and there, one even said the "L Word" to me one time. It was in a fit of passion, he may have meant it at the time, we were both naked. Today he does not wish to acknowledge the fact that I exist.

In the words of Kurt Vonnegut Jr

 "So it goes".
Somewhere down deep below all the sadness and the loneliness there is a well, a reservoir, sort of like the famous one in France, naturally carbonated optimism. Sometimes I wonder if it has a limit, if it can be run dry, so far so good. I'm well aware that I'm not the only lonely soul in the world this Christmas. I am not starving, the Taco Bell down the road is always open, I have a roof over my head and there is a six pack of Japanese beer in my refrigerator, nice and cold. Later tonight, when I get home from my shift on the switchboard down at the Center, I'll have one or two of those beers. My little treat for myself, my private Christmas party. I'll check my answering machine when I get home. I'll login to my BBS and look for Email. My kids will call me in the morning.

It's very nice down at the Center. There is always someone there to talk to. Friendly people. I think a friend of mine is going to be on the switchboard with me tonight. That's better than being there alone. Some groups have meetings scheduled too. There should be at least a handful of people there. A lot of people get lonely around this time of year. A guy I knew back East pulled the plug last week. He used a gun. It must have been very messy.

 
        "When I look back upon my life
         It's always with a sense of shame
         I've always been the one to blame
         For everything I long to do
         No matter when or where or who
         Has one thing in common too
         It's a
         It's a
         It's a sin
         It's a sin
 
         Everything I've ever done
         Everything I ever do
         Every place I've ever been
         Every where I'm going to
         It's a sin
          -- Pet Shop Boys
OK so I'm not perfect. I never said I was. The thing at the Center, I know it will help. Public service has a way of helping a person let go of what is bothering them, and it gives them a chance to give to someone else. Actually I can't wait. I almost hope that some desperate people call. I seem to be good at reaching out to people through a phone. I seem to be able to connect with them pretty well.

I have this one really good friend out here in California. We met recently. There seems to be a sort of a bond between us, like we sort of understand each other very well. We connect at a very important level. He's back East this week, I miss him. Good friends are few and far between. I cherish him.

Of course I have lots of other friends too, mostly people I know through the bulletin boards. Casual friends, people I know, people I exchange Email with. That's all well and good but somehow at Christmas those friends don't seem to count. They don't play a part in the picture of a family with 2.3 kids sitting around a brightly lit table, logs crackling in the fireplace, carving knives laid neatly by the turkey. The father in this picture has very slightly wavy blond hair and he does not live three thousand miles from the children. He is not gay either. This society wants to marginalize me, like a fool I sometimes let it.

 
        "Do you remember
         There was a time
         When people on the street
         Were walking hand in hand in hand
         They used to
         Talk about the weather
         Making plans together
         Days would last forever
         Come to me
         Cover me
         Hold me
         Together we'll break these chains of love
          --Erasure
It's Christmas Eve. A time of peace and joy. I think I'll take a little nap before I head down to the Center.



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