It’s no secret that out of all the Banana Republic’s the the TriState New York area that I can shop at, by far my favorite store is the Banana Republic in the old Port Authority (aka Google NYC HQ) over in Chelsea. 

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The main reason for my love of this particular Banana Republic is the high concentration of gay and or bisexual male employees there - one part due to this fact scaring off the homophobic hooligans leaving more selection of my size, and three parts being that I tend to receive what I feel to be special treatment in shopping there.

I’m not sure what about my boyish looks or charm it is, but this Banana just gives me that extra friendly attitude.  I’ve never had or seen a problem with any of the staff.  They are always friendly to me and everyone else - although I must say that think I get an extra helping of friendly. 

I enjoy receiving the special treatment, and when I was there last week I came to a sad realization - my days are numbered and I’ve only got so much more of this extra special treatment left before it’s all gone!

I’m fast approaching the big 2-8.  My waist is inching bigger, my bones have a little more meat on them, and my hair is, well, there, but suffering from an internal conflict of a civil war ravaging certain areas due to the front lines of war - leaving what sure as heck appears to be a receding hairline to the naked eye - although I know that it’s from an internal hair on hair follicle civil war.

Anyway, the point that I’m trying to get across here is that my days of receiving the extra friendly attitude based on how I look at this Banana Republic as opposed to just the regular run of the mill friendly attitude is coming to an end. 

What will I do when I can’t seem to find my size slacks?  Who will be there to rush over to assist me before I could even ask for help?  Who? 

This whole future thing can be a scary thing at times…