Always The Last to Know
AJ and I broke up. There were just too many things wrong. Namely that, the last night we went out, he spent the entire night following his friend Joe around and leaving me in an awkward position. It’s never fun when you’re out with your boyfriend for the night and guys are hitting on you because they have no idea you’re with somebody. But whatever, let bygones be bygones and I wish those two crazy kids all the best, just as soon as they come out of that glass closet.
So, two weeks later, Jules and I are shooting the shit at my kitchen table when the subject of AJ comes up. We’re talking for a little bit when, all of a sudden, she asks me, “Did you ever think maybe he was gay?”
I was kind of surprised by the question. “Yeah, the thought crossed my mind. Especially after the shaved chest thing. Why?”
“Well, don’t get upset, but me and Sculls were talking with Tuz” (a friend of theirs that I don’t know very well but absolutely adore. How can you not love somebody that regularly just slips into a Cartman from South Park voice?) “and I told them the background you just told me and they both were like ‘GAY!’”
“Really? Why?”
“Well, basically, they both couldn’t understand how a 33-year-old guy, hell a guy of any age, wouldn’t want to sleep with you. You’re 25. Every guy wants to sleep with a 25-year-old. And you’re beautiful and smart and funny. They just didn’t get it.”
“That always bothered me. But I thought maybe he just had a lot of guilt over it. I didn’t want to push the issue too much. But it really bothered me that, after 4 months, he just didn’t seem interested. That and the shaved chest thing. That really bothered me, too.”
“That did it for Tuz. He went to Key West. He shaved his chest for Key West. She thought that was totally gay.”
“Who knows? But to quote your own lyrics at you, his problems, they ain’t mine.”
Later on, though, I got to thinking about the whole situation again, wondering how the hell I was the last to know that my boyfriend was really wishing for a boyfriend and not a girlfriend under the Christmas tree. The warning signs were there: good dresser, kind of fussy, got a facial, had no interest in me sexually but was willing to spend a Saturday afternoon in SoHo looking for suits. It’s just that these damn Metrosexuals keep everybody confused. Nowadays, that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It used to be that hair products and face moisturizers were for the gays. Now everybody’s coiffed and properly moisturized. How the hell are we supposed to tell the difference?
The more I thought about it, though, the sadder the story got. AJ’s 33. His father’s a former priest; his mother’s a former nun. His family is very Catholic. At 33, it doesn’t even seem like he’s come to terms with the fact that he might be gay. And even if he did, would he ever be able to come out of the closet? With a family like that, it doesn’t seem very likely. His grandmother cried for a week when his dad left the priesthood. Imagine what she would do if she found out her grandson was gay. It’s the kind of reaction that might force you to deny your true orientation for a very long time.
And that’s when I realized I might not be the last one to know this time.
So, two weeks later, Jules and I are shooting the shit at my kitchen table when the subject of AJ comes up. We’re talking for a little bit when, all of a sudden, she asks me, “Did you ever think maybe he was gay?”
I was kind of surprised by the question. “Yeah, the thought crossed my mind. Especially after the shaved chest thing. Why?”
“Well, don’t get upset, but me and Sculls were talking with Tuz” (a friend of theirs that I don’t know very well but absolutely adore. How can you not love somebody that regularly just slips into a Cartman from South Park voice?) “and I told them the background you just told me and they both were like ‘GAY!’”
“Really? Why?”
“Well, basically, they both couldn’t understand how a 33-year-old guy, hell a guy of any age, wouldn’t want to sleep with you. You’re 25. Every guy wants to sleep with a 25-year-old. And you’re beautiful and smart and funny. They just didn’t get it.”
“That always bothered me. But I thought maybe he just had a lot of guilt over it. I didn’t want to push the issue too much. But it really bothered me that, after 4 months, he just didn’t seem interested. That and the shaved chest thing. That really bothered me, too.”
“That did it for Tuz. He went to Key West. He shaved his chest for Key West. She thought that was totally gay.”
“Who knows? But to quote your own lyrics at you, his problems, they ain’t mine.”
Later on, though, I got to thinking about the whole situation again, wondering how the hell I was the last to know that my boyfriend was really wishing for a boyfriend and not a girlfriend under the Christmas tree. The warning signs were there: good dresser, kind of fussy, got a facial, had no interest in me sexually but was willing to spend a Saturday afternoon in SoHo looking for suits. It’s just that these damn Metrosexuals keep everybody confused. Nowadays, that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It used to be that hair products and face moisturizers were for the gays. Now everybody’s coiffed and properly moisturized. How the hell are we supposed to tell the difference?
The more I thought about it, though, the sadder the story got. AJ’s 33. His father’s a former priest; his mother’s a former nun. His family is very Catholic. At 33, it doesn’t even seem like he’s come to terms with the fact that he might be gay. And even if he did, would he ever be able to come out of the closet? With a family like that, it doesn’t seem very likely. His grandmother cried for a week when his dad left the priesthood. Imagine what she would do if she found out her grandson was gay. It’s the kind of reaction that might force you to deny your true orientation for a very long time.
And that’s when I realized I might not be the last one to know this time.
posted by Still Hopeful @ 12:00 PM
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