When I Need a Good Cry

O.K. this blog is going to be a bit on the silly side but everything I’m writing is true. My blogs have been so serious because of the nature of the world, I’ve decided to do Through My Queer Lens, Lite.

So, I’m a crier and I always have been. Yes, I’m the guy who cries at commercials. Give me a father and a baby and I’m a goner, a dog running home to loving arms, a solider surprising his family, and I’m blubbering…good old fashioned someone-just-died-unexpectedly blubbering. Forget the holidays and a cheesy Christmas movie.

Of course, I grew up hearing “Here comes the water works.” “You’re such a crybaby.” I grew up in Long Island, and my high school friend would sing “Don’t Cry for me Massapequa” when I got emotional. I have to admit, that always made me laugh. You see, I can’t help the water works; I feel stuff very intensely. My entire life I was told I feel too much. Then I realized there was a flip side to that record…you feel too little. Recently my good buddy said, “Oh please, you cry if your shoes are untied.” I cussed him out, then laughed because there is an element of truth in it.

Then there are the ways I make myself cry. You must be thinking, doesn’t he cry enough?Sometimes when the well is a bit dry, I have three things that will always do it for me. The number one, sure-fire way to start the parade of tears is watching Susan Lucci winning her Daytime Emmy after eighteen nominations. If you watch this and don’t cry then I would suggest you go in for a cardiogram right away, because your heart has turned to stone. There is no way humanly possible to watch this moment and not at least get choked up. When Rosie O’Donnell starts crying, I’m a goner. Then Oprah starts crying, I’m a mess. It’s not like I’m some huge Susan Lucci fan. I like her and watched All My Children on and off back in New York. What it is for me is, I love watching people’s moments of victory. I’m a self-proclaimed award show junkie. Although they’re getting harder these days because no one seems sincere anymore. I love the Olympics, the World Series, the Superbowl, Wimbledon, any moment of triumph. My sister once asked me if gay people love award shows for the fashion. Of course, not all gay people love award shows, but many gay men do. I’ve been thinking about why that is ever since my sister proposed the question. I think as queer people we grew up with defeat, and seeing people win and triumph makes us feel better. I think it is literally that simple. I asked several of my gay, big crier friends and they agreed with my theory.

My other two guaranteed crying moments are Shirley MacLaine in Terms of Endearment. Not the big “Give My Daughter the Medication” scene. It’s when Debra Winger’s character dies and Shirley says “I knew this was coming, I prayed for it; why am I so shocked?” Oh Lord, you don’t want to be around when that scene is on. The other (this is so embarrassing) is when Natalie Wood in the movie Gypsy gets all gussied up in her royal blue gown and white gloves and transforms into Gypsy Rose Lee. She looks in the mirror and says, “Look at me, Mama. I’m pretty, I’m pretty.” Don’t ask me why that one gets does it for me. I keep both Gypsy and Terms of Endearment in my queue in case I need a good cry.

These days with Trump back in the news I want to scream and go hide on a remote island. I was on a Trump media blackout for years. I never looked at his ugly face, listened to that annoying voice, or engaged in conversations about him. Honestly, I didn’t care what was in the news. I live in utter astonishment that he is not behind bars. As I’m writing this, I just got a news flash on my phone, that he is still the front runner for 2024. How in God’s name could that be possible. Fuck it, I’m opening YouTube to watch Susan win her Emmy for the hundredth