I received a devastating call from my brother CJ this evening. Imagine my shock and horror when he told me Dan was gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that). Honestly, he’s been hiding it pretty well for quite some time. I guess somewhere along the way, I chose an “Alternative Lifestyle.” I am in fact a lesbian and Dan and I have been “beards” for each other. I know, so many one liners on that alone…
But wait, could it be that Dan is straight and I am straight and someone else was very, very confused? Yes, I believe that’s it. When I wrote the other day about my gay husband, I assumed that my readers would understand that is not a literal term, but rather, a term of endearment and sincere commitment, as life goes. Many of my friends and family know that my Gay Prince Charming swept into my life in 2001, and through a series of twists and turns ended up living at my house for about 5 years, before he moved back to Germany where he insisted on dating a man. That is a long story that deserves its own series of blog postings.
Oh boy, this could be confusing again. Just to be clear, while my IGH (international gay husband, because I also have domestic and local gay husbands as my emergency back-ups) lived with us for 5 years, he slept in the guest room. Alone. Well most of the time alone, except for one fateful evening when my original gay husband (OGH) somehow accidentally fell asleep, fully clothed I’m certain, in my IGH’s bedroom. Funny story on that too—I came downstairs in the morning to find Dan flipping pancakes and making breakfast for both my GHs. To be clear, he did not show any kind of flamboyant little flick of the wrist while flipping pancakes. They were very manly flips. Just Dan being Dan, making breakfast for our friends.
What is 110% true is that Dan and Andre never spent the night together, in anyone’s bedroom. What is also 110% true is that I slept with my IGH numerous times; we even honeymooned together for 10 days in Hawaii. And no, I don’t mean “slept” as a euphemism for sex. I mean shared a bed so I could have an all-expense paid trip to Hawaii while he was there on business. Sweet, right? While my IGH and I are madly, passionately in love, there remain the pesky details that he is gay and I am married to my real legal (heterosexual) husband, and it’s just a bit too complicated.
At any rate, who could this very confused person be that misunderstood what I was saying? Who pray tell would believe such a thing? Apparently, my very own mother. My mother who knows nearly all my gays and especially my IGH rather well. When CJ read my blog he was quite clear that I was referring to my IGH, not that he ever understood our very special relationship. He once asked if I was keeping him as a pet, or what? My response? Sort of. Yet when my mom called him, frantic to know if Dan was gay, he reassured her by saying “I absolutely do not think so. But maybe.”
Just in case I was missing something, I walked down the hall and asked one of my colleagues if she knew I had a gay husband. She said absolutely, the guy in Germany. She has known me approximately 1 year and never, ever met my IGH, but she was pretty clear on things. As a word of caution, you may not want to discuss these sorts of things with anyone at the office, it is an HR no-no that even Catbert would find offensive (and Mimi, I hang my head in part shame, part giggle).
Anyway, I wish I could let this go and not make fun of my poor mom, but seriously, why would I let her off the hook on this one? I can only guess that she has been frantically painting her nails and reapplying lipstick to try and quiet her angst. Mom, I know you threw me a big honking wedding and have known Dan for nearly as long as I have, but I can see where you might be confused. Nah, just kidding, I don’t see it at all. What are you thinking? Are you taking those “little nips of sherry” again? I do want to sincerely thank my mom for giving me a much needed blog topic tonight.
Mom, I know in the back of your mind you feel that this will eventually be forgotten. But let me ask you this—has anyone forgotten about being stuffed, like a cow, into the little boats? Tee hee ha ha funny, how I love that old chestnut. Perhaps there’s room for a negotiation of some sort, eh? Have your straight people call my straight people. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
As far as I know my mom does not typically nip at sherry. Keep in mind I don’t know much.