May Day Is My Day

© Copyright 2008 Stan Spire


It’s appropriate that my birthday falls on the first day of May. Mayday is the international radio codeword used by planes and ships in distress to request help.

But lately I’m not crashing or sinking – thanks to self-help. I’m treading water while more people also fall in around me. High gas and food prices. The screwed up housing market. Jobs being lost. Welcome to the sea of piss.

Since I’m near bottom – no job, car, or home – I have nothing much to lose.

A birthday can be a time for reflection. Me, I’ve got jackshit to reflect on.

Of course, over the last 12 months, some things have irked me. One in particular was a newspaper profile of a woman discussing her professional and family life. Divorced, she was looking for a special man to date. Ironically, I asked her out on a date some time ago, but after accepting she suddenly decided to cancel. Apparently I’m not special enough.

But for someone like her, no man is. So I cross that annoyance off the list.

For some getting older means being less driven, not as critical, accepting things as they are. It’s called senility.

I accept nothing as it is. But I’ve learned what is worth pursuing and what isn’t worth a leak in the woods. The social scene around here is bleak. Tried a dating club one time. What a joke. A few of the women I met should’ve skipped the dating club and went straight to group therapy. Talk about unreality and unattraction. The best way for a guy to approach dating in this neck of the woods is to combine LSD with Viagra.