Thursday, October 25, 2007

You've Never Bean?

or

Something Decaf with a Splash of Gay, Please

Over rambunctious gays make me uneasy. Uneasy & embarrassed for the rest of the non in-your-face gays trying to forge a good name for themselves in this, George Bush's America. Not uneasy to the point of being outwardly rude or curt (well, who can't help being a little curt now & again?), but uneasy to the point of blogging my annoyance ("God bless Kurt!").

They are the kind of gays, God bless 'em, who talk and talk and talk when you have just met & assume you're having as much fun with them as they're emoting they're having with you. You're not. You're nothing but stuck. Stuck wondering, "When will this pointless banter end? How late am I for my mani/pedi? Lord, what is that deliciously intoxicating smell?" That delicious smell, unfortunately, is wafting from said ear-chewing gay. Delicious & deadly, like a moth to the flamer. Drowning out the abrasive banter with cynical self-loathing toward my brethren when we meet, I often think to myself, We're not real friends.

Real friends let you sing harmony (or the easier melody when the goin's get tough) to the plethora of road-trip-ready show tunes. Real friends know exactly when to lock the front door when Bravo decides to air a 666-hour Scare-A-Thon. Real friends know when to leave you alone. Over rambunctious gays do not.

The gay who accosted me today falls into a small, relatively unpopulated, subcategory of gays: Married Male Hairdresser Who Moonlights As a Hotel Lobby Barista. Yes, they are few in number but do, in fact, exist, like Lipstick Lesbians & fashionable hoop earrings.

Let's call him Wally.

MMHWMAAHLB (opps, I mean Wally) & I had never met, but this small, insignificant detail did not detour him from calling me "Bill" upon introduction & the ear-gnawing 4-minutes that followed. Despite the fact I shook his hand (firmly, thank you) & said, "Hi, I'm William," all the while mentally (read: manically) eye-pointing to the "William" name tag adorned upon my chest, Wally did not feel William was a good enough name.

Bill was his new gay friend from the theatre department. Bill was ordering a grande Carmel Macchiato. Bill was talking low & avoiding eye contact. Bill knows hotel guests who meet Wally once in their lifetime may find him charming, quirky, & even a bit exotic. Bill knows these attributes are not stomachable every.day.of the.year.

Why are you putting forth such a strong gay effort to be my bestie, Married Male Hairdresser Who Moonlights As a Hotel Lobby Barista?

Also, we aren't besties.

2 comments:

A to the S said...

ahh... why aren't you with me all the time? or why aren't i with you all the time?... ahhh

Michelle said...

"...like a moth to the flamer."

Gold, my friend. Gold.