What's so Wrong with me?
If he had the chance to change something – just one thing – what would it be? What would make Danny notice him?
He knew. The moment the other man stepped into the room – the man his ‘friend’ never spoke to him about and always tried to avoid addressing directly. The man with large broad shoulders, covered in muscle which was hardly covered by the suit that was far too tight for him. He knew he liked him. Or more realistically, had liked him.
Which only brought about more painful realisations.
He watched from behind the crowd, as his friend greeted him, shaking his hand warmly, smiling up at him in the way that he does, the way he was ever so fond of. In the way he thought was reserved only for him. Well, he had hoped
But this was different.
There was something foreign in his eyes. Something that was never there when he looked at him. But as he looked at the man now, the realisation that his masculinity was never the reason why he was undesirable to Danny was a painful pill to swallow.
Because it meant that everything he had been telling himself for years was a lie – it wasn’t his masculinity that prevented Danny from looking at him in that way… then it had to be something else.
Something about who he is. Something lacking.
Suddenly, everything anyone had ever said about him felt relevant in a way he had at least pretended it wasn’t before. It was no longer something he could easily brush off. He couldn’t make the excuse that it didn’t matter, because ‘at least I still have Danny’.
Danny-who he thought was so kind and patient for putting up with him for so long. Danny- who was there for him every time someone felt the need to criticise him. Danny, who always had his back. So, it left a rather unfortunate question in his mind: which of his defects was the dealbreaker for Danny?
He had loved him since the day they moved in together- since the day he hauled his bags up the steps to his flat with a warm smile and pleasant greeting. He wished now that he was kinder then. Maybe that was the reason – he wasn’t very good with people.
Or maybe it was the way he was so reckless. Danny did always care if he left the flat early to go to work, or if he had taken enough food with him, or if he would be warm enough without a thicker coat. Whereas he didn’t care if he went hungry, or didn’t get enough sleep, or was too cold. He would be fine. But he knew Danny worried. Maybe he should have taken more notice of his concern.
But it could have been his complete lack of trust.
He could write a list; he knew Danny could too. So how could he narrow it done to just one?
Maybe it was several.
Maybe he was thinking about it too much.
What if it was the colour of his eyes? Or the way his hair curls in unorganised swirls around his head, falling in front of his eyes or the way it resembled a bird’s nest in the mornings. What if it was the sound of his voice? His neediness? Or his hatred of wearing socks?
There was just so many to choose from, it was obvious now why he was never on the cards for Danny. There was so much wrong!
The shape of his teeth.
His height.
His weight.
His build.
Why would Danny want him?
So he was left with a thought, as he watched Danny and the other man laugh with drinks in their hands, so casually unaware of his foreboding crisis: if he had the chance to change something – just one thing – what would it be?
What would make Danny notice him?
About the Creator
Jane Wheeler
"Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm."
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Insomnia
Another night of sleepless exhaustion. I waited for the fatigue to consume me… but it never did. So I stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows dance and wave down to me, performing so I didn’t have to look at nothing. As they moved, the howling outside grew louder, and the dancing sped up. In a frenzy of movement they twirled, leaped, and span like dancers swarming their stage. I was mesmerised, but apparently still not able to fall asleep.
By Jane Wheeler4 years ago in Fiction
What Nobody Warns You About Growing Up
Nobody warns you that growing up doesn’t happen all at once. There’s no clear moment when childhood ends and adulthood begins. It sneaks up on you quietly, disguised as routine, responsibility, and small decisions that suddenly feel heavy. When we’re young, we imagine growing up as freedom. We think it means staying up late, earning money, making our own choices, and living life on our terms. Adults look powerful from the outside—confident, certain, and in control. What nobody tells you is that most adults are still figuring things out, just like you were, only with higher stakes. One of the first shocks of growing up is realizing that no one is coming to save you. As a child, there is always someone to fix things—parents, teachers, elders. A bad grade can be explained. A mistake can be forgiven easily. But as you grow older, the safety net thins. Mistakes start costing time, money, relationships, and sometimes self-respect. You learn that accountability isn’t just a word; it’s a weight you carry every day. Nobody warns you about how lonely growing up can feel. Even when surrounded by people, there’s a quiet distance that forms. Friends you once spoke to every day slowly drift away. Not because of anger or betrayal, but because life pulls everyone in different directions. Jobs, families, priorities—all rearrange your circle without asking for permission. You stop expecting people to stay forever and start appreciating those who do. Another thing no one talks about is how often you’ll doubt yourself. As a child, you dream without limits. You want to be everything at once—successful, admired, fearless. Growing up introduces comparison. You see others moving faster, earning more, achieving milestones you haven’t reached yet. Social media makes it worse, turning life into a scoreboard you never agreed to play on. You learn that confidence isn’t permanent; it’s something you rebuild again and again. Growing up also teaches you that hard work doesn’t always pay off immediately. You can do everything right and still feel stuck. Effort doesn’t guarantee results, and patience becomes one of the hardest lessons. Nobody warns you how exhausting it is to keep going when motivation fades and only discipline remains. Yet this is where growth actually happens—in the moments when quitting feels easier than continuing. Then there’s the emotional part no one prepares you for. You start seeing your parents as human beings, not just authority figures. You notice their fears, regrets, and limitations. Sometimes you understand them more; sometimes it hurts to realize they didn’t have all the answers either. Growing up often means forgiving people—not because they apologized, but because holding on to resentment is too heavy. You’re also not warned about how your definition of success changes. It stops being about applause and starts becoming about peace. A quiet mind. A stable income. A few people who genuinely care about you. You learn that happiness isn’t loud or dramatic; it’s often found in ordinary moments—coming home tired but safe, laughing at something small, sleeping without anxiety. One of the hardest truths of growing up is learning to let go. Let go of versions of yourself that no longer fit. Let go of people who can’t grow with you. Let go of timelines you once believed were fixed. This letting go feels like loss, even when it’s necessary. Nobody warns you that growth and grief often walk together. Yet, despite all this, growing up gives you something valuable—clarity. You begin to understand your boundaries. You learn when to say no without explaining yourself. You start choosing what matters instead of chasing everything. Strength stops looking like loud confidence and starts looking like quiet resilience. What nobody warns you about growing up is that it will break you in small ways—and rebuild you stronger in others. You’ll lose some innocence but gain wisdom. You’ll trade certainty for understanding. And even on days when you miss the simplicity of who you once were, you’ll realize you’re proud of who you’re becoming. Growing up isn’t about having everything figured out. It’s about learning how to keep going, even when you don’t. And maybe that’s the lesson no one warns you about—adulthood isn’t a destination. It’s a continuous act of becoming.
By Hanif Ullah 6 days ago in Fiction
Where's the Glory?
In breaking news, rehabilitated Republican Senator Johnnie Johnson (Pronouns: HE, HIM, HIS) called a press conference from the Men’s room of the New Orleans Louis Armstrong International Airport, Concourse B, across from the Ignatius Reilly’s Lucky Dog stand. The Senator had just returned from a sexual reorientation rehabilitation program in Memphis, TN after being publically disgraced at a Buckee’s Truckstop restroom soliciting sex from an undercover cop three months ago. He is a founding member of the Reformed Christians for Christ, a conservative, pro-family and ex-gay advocacy group. In the spirit of being reborn, Senator Johnson invited reporters to marvel at his plans for a major remodeling of airport bathrooms.
By Cathy Schieffelin7 days ago in Humor
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