Cider-induced poignancy?

I’m watching QAF2, about to go out. I’ve drunk five bottles of cider. It’s that scene when Vince’s mum asks Stuart why he has never had sex with his friend (or, if he has never been in love with his friend, to be more accurate).

I had, for a while, induced by my intense romantic/intellectual entanglement with this programme, perceived/depicted my relationship with Michael as being equivalent to that of Stuart and Vince. That is to say, the successful one, bedding lots of men (albeit in different ways) being chased by his friend, the one who loved him (insert capitals where appropriate). Although their love is never consumated (on screen; rather, it is subsumed into a transcendental mythonarrative ending), the suggestion is that is could be, if only the follower took the lead, so-to-speak. I took form that, the idea that, at the very least, if I chased Michael, as a friend, for long enough, we could make fiction into truth.

But now I know that is not to be, my understanding of the show is changed. I still derive great comfort, entertainment, and guidance from it, but my appreciation has shifted. To be honest, I can’t remember what my original point was…

Oh well, that’s cider for you… G’night all. xxx