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Stories from a man who fails to meet media expectations of what it means to be gay:
white, frivolous, over sexed yet sexless, shrill, single, stylish, a clown, unimportant, et al.
01/13/2003
Nico the stereotype
gay men:
love opera: I enjoy classical music. I don't anything about classical music, but I enjoy it. Opera on the hand, sounds like a bunch of howler monkeys in heat and tends to leave me with a headache.
love ballet: The closest thing to ballet I've ever been to was a demonstration of various dances and dance techniques that included a section where a troop of ballerinas charged across the stage like a herd of mustangs. I think real horses would have quieter. So I think I can safely say I do not have an innate love for ballet.
love women's fashion: When I look at a photograph of a fashion show, I'm more likely to wonder if the fashion industry is some sort of involved antifemale joke, than I am to go "cute dress."
love cats: The husband and I now have three. Babe, jet, and the unending terror that is the new kitten. I'm more of a cat person than a dog person, not because I hate dogs, but because cats are easier to deal with. Cats tend not to have panic attacks when occasionally ignored.
hate sports: Sort of true for me I guess. Most team sports leave me yawning. I think my uninterest has something to do with my being a klutz who can't throw straight to save his life. I think this makes me more of a nerd than gay.
can dance: If it involves counting steps, it's beyond me. If it involves throwing myself into a rhythm and loosing myself in a beat, I'm there. Except that I go dancing so rarely these days that I'm not.
can sew: All I am capable of is puncturing myself with a needle and bleeding everywhere. Not an overly impressive talent.
can cook: I can cook well. I just don't do it that often. On the other hand, I'm a terrible baker. Baking requires precession, careful measuring of ingredients, and foreplaning. My approach to making food is haphazard and loose. I'm more than likely to check if I have the ingredients to make a dish after I have already started making it. Which I think says more about my lackadaisical attitude than my sexual orientation.
have thousands of sexual partners: I've never counted. I have a suspicion that even assuming a very liberal definition of sex I just barely make it to the double digits. I am far, far, far behind schedule.
eat brunch: Er, yes, I do on occasion.
want to be women: Nope, can't say that I do.
call each other girl and girlfriend: Can't say that I do that either. A good thing to. I'm far too simple minded to successfully juggle all those pronouns.
wear stylish, fashionable clothes: Spend perfectly good money on clothes???
are neat freaks: After a decade plus of nonlegal nonmarriage, John would argue that I am the antithesis of neat.
are alcoholics: I dislike beer, I'm not partial to wine, and despite liking mixed drinks like greyhounds, I can't remember the last time I even had one. So nope, not much of a drinker.
are drug addicts: I've never done meth, any of the alphabet, or even plain and simple marijuana. So nope. Not much of a party boy.
are bitchy: All men are bitchy. I am a man. The conclusion is unavoidable.
are incapable of long term relationships: This June will mark 13 years of unwedded nonmarriage for John and me. I suddenly feel very dull and middle aged.
are effeminate: I don't consider myself to be overly butch. On the other hand, people (straight people that is) have commented that I was such a "regular guy." I've taken this to mean that they were surprised that I am not prone to mincing and prancing around. I was considered a bit of a sissy as a kid, but that was more due to my being terrible at sports than anything else. I guess the truth is I am somewhere in the middle of masculinity.
are drag queens: I've done drag exactly once, for an appallingly unfunny comedy skit meant to drag, er stretch out the senior fashion show back in high school. I was massively unenthused by the prospect of donning a dress then, and I remain unenthused now. Probably because I'm far too lazy to bother with all the work and makeup it would take to do drag. Despite my uninterest, one of the sisters of perpetual indulgence has assured me that I have a face for drag. Whatever that means.
more later,
nico
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