A few days ago I was doing my usual post-work walk around my neighborhood, and as I walked past Swig I saw someone wave at me, a friend of mine who owns a gallery in South Main. So, I walked in, sat down and had a drink with her.
We got to talking about Christmas, and how I didn’t make it home for the official day but will be going home this coming weekend. “It just means the nagging got delayed for a little while,” I explained. “But don’t worry, soon I’ll get to hear how I’m 35 and not married.”
My friend looked at me funny and replied, “Darling. You have told your mother that you’re gay, haven’t you?”
I mean, I can understand how someone who I’ve just met might think I’m gay. Or how someone who has seen me across the room several times but never talked to me might think that. After all, I do have a very flamboyant nature. But anyone who has talked to me for five minutes usually figures out real quick that I’m straight. And this is a friend I’ve known for over a year!
Here’s how a typical conversation with me goes: I’ll be talking about something, and a girl in tight black pants will walk by, and I’ll crane my head to look, and totally lose my train of thought. “Um…what was I saying?”
Or you’re talking about something, and suddenly I’ll interrupt: “Whoa! Look at her! She has a TUBE TOP on!” (I have a thing for tube tops)
Or, you’re talking about something, and a really young girl will walk by, and I’ll interrupt, “Hey, look at her, do you think she’s 18?” (and therefore not jailbait)
Maybe I felt the need to be sophisticated around my friend and not act like a total pig because she’s a gallery owner. I’ll be careful not to do that again. From now on I’ll act like a disgusting pig in front of everyone. No discrimination!