Byron has always had admirers; he is sensitive, attractive, and a minister’s son, with the attendant social skills that implies. But since he has embarked on his current career the ladies (and a fair number of boys) swoon over him in veritable droves. It is fascinating to see what quantifiable success does to a social life.
Though I am reminded of a conversation I had years ago with a famous friend. I inquired why a recent relationship had ended and the answer went something like: She was a starfucker and I never get recognized in restaurants.
That conversation happened around the time fans of the magazine were gossiping about my decadent shopping habits (vitamin supplements and organic vegetables) and luxury automobile (a fifteen year old Volvo with a dodgy title), though before someone started a rumor that my unschooled children were secretly enrolled in elite private schools.
I had fair warning from friends that leading a visible life would offer perks and punishment in equal measure. Yes, I get to meet and know so many interesting and fun new friends. But it is also a fact that some people are scared to talk to me, or resent my perceived success.
The ability to travel extensively is paired with a lack of sufficient time to rest, or congregate with those I love the most.
I could go on and on but nobody wants to hear a fortunate person complain about the challenges of leading a brilliant life. I certainly do not have sympathy for myself on the issue, let alone other people who drone on about such things.
The only tricky thing that I ponder is the essential oddity of never knowing whether a person likes me as an individual, or for what I represent. But I think that might be a question that everyone has to face… sooner or later.