Last week I confessed my incomplete fabulousness to the Toy with Mes because I don’t have A Gay in my life, and then I realized something.
My husband is, in some ways, just a little bit gay and I’ve been sort of taking all that for granted, but now I’m thinking that maybe he can hold me over until I find my real gay boyfriend.
Remember how last week I said I dated a guy who loved Madonna? Well, my dear husband loves a little Madonna too! Also, Lady Gaga. I can kind of see how the Woodland Gays might get the wrong idea about him when he rolls up with Confessions on a Dancefloor blaring out of his car stereo. Until, that is, he pulls out the two little girls and then it’s all over. He’s clearly just a guy taking his kids for a walk in the woods. I mean, he hardly has any porn with him at all, and instead of condoms and lube, he’s got diapers and a sippy cup.
Creepy as they are, that is so not sexy to the Woodland Gays.
And there have been times when I’ve been a little sad because I don’t have a gay in my life to give me hair advice, but then I realized that my husband is totally adept at doing hair. He’s excellent with pig tails, braids, and hair color. He’s colored my hair on multiple occasions, and I’ve even farmed him out to my lady friends. His technique for spreading the color evenly is outstanding! We’ll just forget that time he picked out clown orange color for my first day of grad school and then trimmed my bangs so they were only 1/2 inch long.
Now that we have a little girl, he’s the one doing the fancy hair-dos because when I try it, it looks like I did it with my feet. But my husband on the other hand, is very meticulous when it comes to making sure the part is even for pig tails, and his braids are, well, amazing. He also admits to “sort of ” enjoying painting nails, but I think he really enjoys painting nails because he’s so good at it. We even had to make a special trip to the beauty supply store because he just wasn’t satisfied with the Quick-Dry Topcoat that I picked out at Target. He said it was “pure crap” and that he wanted to pick something that had “some balls to it.”
He’s the gayest straight guy I know (except for my friend Roland. He’s a wicked gay- straight guy. He busts out singing show tunes in restaurants, but totally checks out the waitress’ assical area while doing it.)
But perhaps the strongest evidence of my husband’s gay-straight guy status has, sadly for him, been caught on film.
This picture with the little dog is one of my personal favorites.
Dude. That tank top is so not helping.
And sometimes when he folds the laundry, he comes out wearing MY SKINNY JEANS!
We finally got him his own pair because there were fights. It wasn’t cute. His bum looks nice in them, btw.
But perhaps the most damming piece of gay evidence is this little gem:
Oh, SNAP! That’s his Naval Academy uniform being used in a way I’m sure the United States Navy never, ever intended. I actually blame the Navy for some of his gay-straightness. I mean, they don’t even call Navy dudes something manly like “soldiers.”
They call them Seamen.
I rest my case.
And speaking of clothes, one thing that brings me great comfort that my dear husband is decidedly not all the way gay, is that while he may try my stuff on from time to time, he is not good at putting together an outfit. I catch him trying to pair camouflage with just about anything, and I make him submit to an outfit inspection before leaving for work in the morning because somebody has to save him from himself.
For example, imagine my reaction when he came downstairs dressed in this sweater which used to belong TO HIS MOTHER!
He was getting ready to do some manly plastering, but you see what I mean about the camouflage, right?
Here’s his Mom Sweater again in case you wanted to see it with a different outfit:
I think he needs to make that his Facebook picture, just to let the people he went to elementary school with know what he’s all about nowadays.
Also, I bet there aren’t too many gay guys whose natural scent smells like a combination of pot, beer, and balls. That’s pretty much Eau ‘d Straight Dude, right? And he forgets to brush his teeth a lot of times, and showering seems to be optional, mainly, and when we go on a trip, he only packs one clean pair of socks and a clean tee shirt for the entire week. And in addition to his Lady Gaga, he’s also a big Meshuggah devotee. That’s the kind of music where there’s just a lunatic guy screaming his head off while a bunch of other lunatic guys play instruments AS LOUDLY AS POSSIBLE, in case you didn’t know.
OMG, and then there’s the dancing.
And that, my friends, is why we never go out dancing. It’s also why bringing him to a gay bar as bait will never work. No self respecting ‘mo would ever dance like that. He kind of looks like one of those crazy arm waving things you see at used car lots.
From now on, until I get myself a nice gay fella, I’m going to try to focus on what I’ve got already.
Now, if I can only convince him to watch Project Runway with me and admit that straight guys are stupid, I will be the hap-hap-happiest woman on earth!