Sharon 5

After nervously quadruple-checking the arithmetic, I staple the myriad papers together, seal the envelope and hope for the best. It'll be a month before I find out from Revenue if I did it right. Still, I don't worry, most of the time I do.
Yeah, I know, you can go to those so-called professional tax preparers. They charge a lot and make a lotta mistakes, from what I hear from people.
And I happen to be low income enough I could qualify to get it done for free by the volunteer program. Now there is an exercise in masochism and time consumption. Open weekdays in the lobby of the Federal Building, you get one of those number tickets for your place in line. Count on being there most of the day.
And there are of course benefits in doing it yourself. Since you then understand the mechanism, you can play with math and answer the what-ifs. If I did this, what is the effect? What would be the effect of buying another $100 of RRSP (Registered Retirement Savings Plan) and so forth?
As I sip coffee, stare out the window, I reflect how ironic life really is. A half dozen so-called friends will descend upon me now, assuming I'm an expert and ask for help with their forms. Sad or what, me an expert? Still, I suppose everything is relative. In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is King.

Sharon 4

The counsellor steeples her fingers, takes a pedantic tone, "all right then, having heard the problem, I can suggest two possibilities. Once, you are so insecure, so lacking in self-esteem, that you send out signals. Any guy who has some big secret to hide, needs a girlfriend for cover, zeroes in on you."
"Ok, I can buy that, and the other possibility?"
"There is within you some deadly serious flaw, which drives people out to the edges of extremism."
"Now just a minute! Your score there is maybe one out of three. I'll grant you it's never been proven the smuggler did any smuggling prior to the one big offence. However, the time frame of the embezzlement has been clearly established in court. It started long before I met him. And as for the closet fairy, I now know he's been a bathhouse habitue since becoming the legal age to do so."
She smiles, "there, feel better now?"
I blush, realizing I've been had.
"Now go out there into the world, use a little bit more of that self-assertion and tell me about it on the second appointment."

Sharon 3

Call Display shows it's Naomi. For just a moment, I hesitate. When did she ever do anything but laugh at me or snoot me out?
But then, she does that stuff in person, doesn't bother to call. If it's a call, it's probably news.
I answer on the third ring, my hello coming across as too nervous.
In not even a smart ass tone, she asks, "have you read today's paper?"
"No, I only get it once a week, for TV listings."
"Hafta run right now, Sharon, but read it!!"
We-ell, there's been a fatal stabbing at the prison, drug smuggler BF doing the embezzler.
Our ever-looking-for-a-scandal-story reporter asked authorities if the dispute was over me.
The Warden's reply, "you never really know what people are thinking, in the background. However, one staff member and a half dozen inmates witnessed it. All have stated, under oath, that it was over refusal to give up a pingpong table in a timely manner."
I stare out the window, lost in thought, tires spinning but not finding traction.
And then it seems so obvious. There is now one roach less in the world. Another roach has absented himself from the outside world for a longer period of time. Hey, what's not to like about that?
Still, no more procrastination, dial Jewish Family Services today and book an appointment. And so I do.

Sharon 2

Megan and Cindi, two girls I knew in high school, walk in. They're a sight. Cindi has on a spiked dog collar, is led on a leash. Both are shaved bald, with a variety of facial piercings sporting safety pins. Both are in sweat suits with Rainbow Flag stripes.
Each gets a decadent pastry and one of those fancy coffees with lotsa whipped cream. But then, with the look they aim for, calories don't matter.
As the resta the place acts like they don't see them, I wave cheerfully. Two reasons. One, they're usually good for a chuckle. Two, with the mess I make of life, I have no right to judge others.
Megan flashes a wicked smile, "so Sharon, saw Saturday's paper?"
"Oh yes."
"Diss-gusting."
"Certainly was."
"Now you see Sharon, the gay guys have infiltrated the editorial staff at the paper. They use their inside influence to get lotsa publicity."
"I hardly think the riot is good for their cause."
She looks at me, evaluating, then smiles, "now if a lesbian had said that, I'd likely punch her in the nose. However, you being a straight, are entitled to a certain amount of bafflement. Let me clarify, there is no such thing as bad publicity. It all contributes to the visibility of their cause."
Cindi jumps in, "and the lesbians of course are soooo invisible," giggle, "with the exception of a few of us. Think of an analogy, Sharon. Gay is a glacier, ice and snow glittering in the sun. Lesbian is an iceberg, most of its weight invisible, under water."
"I'd never thought of that, but yes that seems accurate."
Cindi laughs, "and given your record in finding guys, don't you think it's about time you switched teams?"
"Nah, not my style. Maybe go become a hermit in the forest."
We all laugh.
Megan smiles uneasily, "ok now, I'm gonna do something I don't usually do. Friends are few and far between, I never like to risk losing one. Still, it must be said, for your own good."
I tense, sensing what's coming.
"Now if you were just a little bit less of a forbidding type person, you'd have heard and lots sooner. There's a reason no one told you, you have the reputation of shooting the messenger."
I ponder for a moment, then shrug, no point getting huffy, losing two friends. Quietly I reply, "I was already half ways to figgering that myself. So, I guess I should thank you. Ah, by the way, how many know of Mr Wonderful and his double life?"
"Probably every gay and lesbian in town plus half the straights. Count on getting laughed at, a lot."
"I ah well ah"
"Now you wouldn't know to spot faces, but the editor of the gay monthly was in that crowd. Rumor has it he's planning a headliner article on what happens when you get suddenly outed. Which of course wouldn't affect mosta those people."
I groan aloud.
"Still, look at it in perspective. It's not like his #1 goal is to embarrass you. His main message up on that soapbox is simply be gay openly and don't waste your own and everyone else's time. Purely by accident you get pride of place in the story, pardon the pun."
"I ah well ah"
Within a couple days, the Saturday paper is old hat. Ribald comments dry up.
With a good bit of tension and a shaking hand, I pull the free gay monthly outa the street box. Horrid, right there on the front page is my very own photo.
And yet, nothing happens. Days go by, a week then two, yet no one says anything.
So, what happened? My guess would be no one bothers with what the tedious editor might say on this or any other topic. The reason they like the paper is photos, of S&M night, the tattoo contest, the riot, drag night and so forth. Lotsa photo gazers, no real readers.