On Being

3/29/2007

I love the Gay men in my life – not in an “I wish they were not Gay...” or in the “If only they would embrace my magic vagina cure then we can live happily ever throughout eternity…” kind of way – but rather in a way way.

I love that we can mostly relax rather than trying to be. I don’t have to pick out poses and phases that make me woman to their poses and manly phrases – we just are.

Generally, we share a dislike for George W. Bush – and we can talk about it – or if we just need to vent about him, we do not meet each other with tsk, tsk, tsk for failing to support him and his failed policies.

I will never understand what it means to be gay – male or female – but I love the stories.

Preston tells of his parents attempt to get him healed. As it goes, when he disclosed himself to his parents they sought counseling for him. The cure the therapist suggested during his sessions was for Preston to enter into a private room stocked with pornographic magazines and beat off until the cum fairy relieved him of his disease. He, of course thought it funny that his upper middle-class conservative parents thought it preferable to view pornography and stroke his self on their dollar than to be sucked off by his guy pal – but what the hell, he was chaffed and happy.

Jeff, a former summer co-worker…a high school teacher during the school year, is a man that one instantly assumes is gay – no doubt, no question, nothing – yet he was always shocked that people picked up on it immediately. It became one of the biggest jokes of our working relationship. He was sure that none of his students nor his co-workers at the high school knew he was gay EVENTHOUGH he took is very butch boyfriend – err, roommate of 10 years – or his mother to every school and faculty function that he attended. We could make each other laugh with just a look – he was awesome – I loved laughing with him – it was nice just being…

I like just being.

I like not having to worry if I’m pretty enough.

I like that my certain brand of insanity is ok and good enough.

I love that I do not have to be lady-like and dot my conversation with cute phrases or wear the right panties – or pretend.

The only thing I really wish sometimes is that Straight men were more like Gay men – well, without the boy on boy sex action.

Peace,

zss