Pat's Perspective

Loving a Gay Man
11/14/98


Angry Pat
Who says one can't be friends with a blatantly homosexual man? Not me, my friends. No, there's this unbelievably gay man who lives in an apartment upstairs from me, and we've grown quite close over the last few weeks (not physically close, metaphorically close). Aah yes, the nights are many when, in the midst of the procrastination for which I am so reviled, I drop by "Lance's" place just to say hello, and to look over his shoulder at his computer screen, where he's simultaneously playing computer scrabble and using internet chat to invite various men over for drunken gay orgies that go on well into the night. Sure, he's gay and has mentioned to me several times that he shaves his pubic hair. Is that any reason why I shouldn't be his friend? Can he and I not share a mutual, platonic love? Cause it's not going further than that- I'm not gay.

I remember the first time I noticed that Lance was blatantly queer. I saw him in the hallway, and he remarked that he had just seen the film "54." I had also seen the stinking pile of crap that claimed to be a movie. He responded that he had rather liked it, due to the fact that Ryan Phillipe was rarely wearing a shirt. I found this rather odd. It would seem that only a gay man would say something like that, but Lance wasn't gay. Neither was I.

My next clue came the next day, when Lance remarked to me, "Damn, look at this guy in this magazine. Could he be hotter?" I started to get the feeling that something wasn't quite right. And I sure wasn't gay.

Later that evening, as I was remarking on how I was constantly discriminated against because I'm Irish, Lance said to me, "How do you think I feel? I'm just a big gay Jew." I decided that there definitely something amiss, and it probably had something to do with Lance. Was I attracted to him? No, I wasn't. I'm not gay.

Finally, just the other day, I wandered into Lance's room just as I saw two large men in leather pants leaving. Lance proclaimed, "I'm so glad you're here! I want you to see this cute little peacoat I just bought at Filene's. Only thirty dollars, and it's wilted wool- actually, wait, it's regular wool." THIS MAN KNEW THE DIFFERENCE. He was so gay. I should point out that I do not know the difference, and I'm not even sure I just used the right word. I'm not gay, shut up.

So, I have since learned to deal with his gayness. On this evening of this writing, I spent many hours drinking butterscotch schnapps with him and complaining about how women can be so cruel. He recommended that I try the gay lifestyle, where the sex comes cheap. I told him I'd think about it. Not that I am gay. Cause I'm not. For the record.

Back to Features

© 1997 ditchhall@hotmail.com

This page hosted by GeoCities Get your own Free Home Page