Shame, Shame

For shame. Shame on me for not uttering a peep here for more than a month. Thant’s not like me at all.

I was writing to my gay friend Bob, who, we’ll call Tim in order to protect his identity. Now Tim is really, really gay. I worked and socialized with gay men for more than twenty years as the music business is rife with ’em. He’s the furthest thing from a straight-acting gay man without being a total queen. And let me simplify things for you stupid homophobes: although gay men and gay women are both “gay,” it’s typical and customary for homosexual men to be referred to en masse as “gay” and gay women to be referred to as “lesbian.” Okay?

So, like I was saying, Bob, er, Tim, I mean, is really gay. To top it off, he’s a nudist. Now, I’m a casual nudist and it’s not a sexual thing entirely but a feeling of sensual freedom. But he belongs to clubs and even a nude bowling team. Truthfully, that’s something I’d really like to see. Anyhow, he was telling me about the nude, gay party he went to last weekend. I queried him (ha ha) as to how he could stand it in such dry, chilly weather to which he replied that a bar full of men provides plenty of body heat. Yuck – sorry, but hairy butts are just not my thing. I told him that I thought it must have looked like a walnut and vienna sausage festival. I await his reply, hopefully with pictures.

No, I’m not gay, or bi-curious or any of that. In fact, what I think is commonly misunderstood is that there’s the sexual aspect of gay-ness and then there’s a cultural aspect. What’s true abbout me is that I relate strongly to that aspect. Let me say again, I’m not a fag, excuse me, gay. But I do relate to the (true) elements of the stereotype rather perfectly, except for the penis-rubbing part. I like to cook, clean, sew, design, be creative, garden, decorate (though I’m bad at it,) be outrageous and melancholy, love fashion, dahling, and I even work in a gay industry, cosmetics, fragrance and personal care. And I love David Sedaris. But I’m not gay. I swear.

Gay culture is very specific and different from straight-man social culture. I don’t love sports and drinking beer, though that’s not to say that gay men don’t drink beer. It’s just that they drink better beer, preferably imported from Belgium. Yums! I do believe in picking up my underwear and putting it in the hamper and in coordinating my sock colors. I buff my nails to a healthy shine and I don’t even pretend to begin to understand the concept of a monster truck rally.

So, gay men and straight men don’t particularly travel in the same social-leisure circles. Suits me. I can cherry-pick the dirt-dishing AND take care of the dirty dishes. So what’s the problem that non-gays have with gays, anyhow?

Jealousy, I’d say.