But I'm Too Young To Be A "Sir"
To Sir With A Little Less Than Love - Don't Get Me Started!
I'm not sure if it comes naturally to me because my ancestors built the pyramids from the ground up (with nothing but some straw and mud and they're still standing, thank you very much) but I do seem to excel at making a mountain out of any molehill, as the saying goes. I have written more than one blog in my lifetime regarding bad guest service (Read one here... When Bad Customer Service Happens...Gotta Get A Gay!), I know I should just be thankful for the decent service I received but be that as it may, I'm still going to kvetch. So I go into my Starbucks this morning and other than the manager it's a completely new crew there. Fine, no problem there but as my drink was handed to me by one of the new guys behind the counter he looked at me a millisecond longer and then said, "Here you go, sir." Sir? To sir with less than love - Don't Get Me Started!
I know, I know, I should be thankful that the kid was respectful, made eye contact and called me sir. And perhaps it's just my delusional thought process that allows me to keep telling myself I'm Peter Pan when I've really reached the age of say, Mr. Darling but I don't want to be a sir. Is that so wrong?
Blame our youth oriented culture or the gay ideal of being ever-young and having washboard abs for the rest of your life, whatever it is, I just thought I was still in the "guy" or even "dude" phase and hadn't really reached the "sir" level quite yet. The thing is that in my rational mind I understand that in a lot of regions in this country, the term "sir" and "ma'am" are done solely out of respect for anyone older than you but it doesn't sting any less I'm afraid. (And if you've read any of my other blogs, I don't know that I could be considered one of the most rational people in the world anyway.) Let's face it, the only way I want to be a "sir" is if the queen of England is knighting me.
It's time for me to face the music (of apparently another, older generation) I do know that when I got my hair cut this week and I started looking in the mirror there was much more gray then brown on the top of my head. I guess I can't just keep telling myself I've gone "pre-maturely" gray like say, Anderson Cooper. The long couple of white hairs on my chest and other areas on my body help confirm that too. No, I'm just a, dare I say it, a MAN now. Ugh. My boyish days are officially over. And this young kid calling me "sir" was just a little like someone ringing a bell in a championship fight. Now don't think I'm giving up the fight entirely and won't continue to moisturize myself until I'm as creamy as the center of a Milky Way candy bar but this round is over and the winner is definitely Father Time.
I've been called a lot worse in my day and one "sir" isn't going to set me back too much. But this morning as I hopped out of my Mini Cooper, full of pep in my step, the Starbucks kid calling me "sir" definitely flattened my tires just a bit. To sir with less than love - Don't Get Me Started!
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An acquired taste, like Tab cola, Some Like It Scott is one gay man's experiences with love, life and things that make him crazy, all done to a musical theatre soundtrack.