Quality of life

We all want "quality" in life. We're all guilty of aspiring to the finer things in our brief, fumbling existence on this globe. Whether it's in materialistic goods (a nice car or fancy technology), or on a deeper level (meaningful relationships, finding the perfect life-partner), wanting "the best" threatens to consume us all. It blinds us to the fortunes we already possess, whatever those may be.

We all want quality living and we convince ourselves that we deserve a quality life. But are we simply deluding ourselves about what we can really attain in life? When should we "settle" with what we have? How do we reconcile ourselves in accepting that the less than desirable facets of our lives may well be the best that we'll ever get? It's not easy. It requires a re-examination of our own sense of worth and a brutal acceptance that maybe we aren't as good as we think, or that those close to us tell us that we are.

Lately I've been ruing the fact that I haven't found a quality guy. Sure I get to fuck the (very) occasional guy, but it seems all I ever get is "quantity". My definition of quantity is someone who scores less than 5 (out of 10) on the looks scale, who may not be the greatest conversationalist or thinker, and who is not overall "put together"; basically the majority of single gays in Boston. A quality guy would be the opposite of course. Wherever I turn, it seems that quality is everywhere, but nowhere around me. Of course I want the smoking hot, at least semi-intelligent, unpretentious, passionate boy who is as keen about me as I them, but maybe it's time I re-evaluate my prospects and realise that the sexy, cute boy of my dreams may never materialise in my lifetime. This mentality is not about giving up the search for a quality partner, but rather, tempering my expectations with reality.

As the big three-zero looms on the horizon, the possibility of finding the ideal soul-mate becomes a frightening prospect. Maybe it's time to settle after all...