I love gay guys. Usually, if I see an attractive man, I instinctively know that he must be gay, because I am like Grace and there is no escaping that passion. But unlike Grace, I don’t have a Will. I want a Will, but there aren’t any available. A story for another day.
The thing is, I love to watch gay men on dates. There’s just something unjustly cute about it. If I see a straight couple, I think, “Great! Another frikin’ one! What about me?” I get jealous. I whine. People want to hit me.
But a gay couple is adorable, like puppies in a window.
While visiting my hometown, I stop for a bite at a local restaurant with my best friend and her mother. I order a water, which chills and refreshes my soul. I order pasta and randomly acquire an allergy to mushrooms. I am poking a burnt piece of French bread when I see it:
A table. A table with a sexy twenty-something in glasses and a white button-down shirt.
His perfectly-preened hair makes me feel guilty for the whole fifteen seconds I spent on mine this morning with a $5 brush and an old hair tie.
‘He’s the one,’ I think. ‘I am going to marry this sexy man with emo glasses!’ I affectionately name him Charles and decide that we will have three children named Vladimir, Patricia Josephine T., and Queen Elizabeth. We are going to live next to a river and eat out every night because we both hate to cook. Our life together will be romantic and beautiful.
I watch in horror as an athletic man in slacks enters my field of vision and gives Charles a sensual hug.
No! No! No! …And then, two blinks and I’ve accepted it. ‘Ah,’ I chuckle inwardly, ‘Should have seen that coming. Duh.’
I continue to watch, taking occassional sips of water. Their body language flirts with each other as they make shy conversation. I am enjoying the show; it’s just so darn cute.
They both turn at the same time.
‘Oh my God! Oh my God!’ I think as I hastily look away. I peek at them from the corner of my eye. Neither has looked away. In fact, if I had not been the first culprit, their stares would be quite rude. As I mull this over, I start to get annoyed with their rudenss, and in my annoyance I viciously stir my glass of water with my straw. I am anxious, annoyed, and now my hand is getting sloshed with water.
Woofsh-clang. An icecube shoots out and lands on my spoon.
…
I stare at it.
“I saw that!” our waitress proclaims. “That was pretty cool!”
I give a nervous laugh and reply, “No, you didn’t see anything! Really!”
She laughs at my meager humor and delivers either our meals or the bill. It doesn’t really matter; I’m frazzled enough to eat either.
September 21, 2006 at 7:08 am
Most heterosexual women – actually, let me re-phrase that – most women, in general, are rather disturbed at the thought of two gay men together, let alone two gay men flirting with one another. It’s a surprise to see someone who is rather fascinated by it all.
Personally, I don’t find it cute like puppies – I think, for me, that seems a little on the patronising side of things. Although, I perfectly understand how cute it is to see two people, who are keen on each other, be found to be cute.
Let’s face it, more people should seriously and genuinely think like you.
October 11, 2006 at 10:11 pm
I think that gay guys on dates are cute too, but it helps if you don’t stare too long, or if you do don’t feel bad about it or act guilty, just nod and smile.