THE NOT REALLYS

Fancy bookstore, late afternoon. Jazzy music is lulling in the background.

A man of late 20’s walked about is the ‘Design Books’ section. Funky spiked hair with blonde highlights, attentive almond eyes, beautiful fair skin, and even more beautiful set of arms, and fingers. He wore a rather tight shirt with funky design and semi boot-cut brown corduroy pants with orange stripy brown adidas of the same color. Wide strap postman bag wrapped around his gorgeous shoulders as a matter of factly.

I thought to myself, that’s the kind of man I’d like to wake up to in the morning for more than a month…Maybe. I walked on to the next aisle of ‘Literature’ where I bumped into an old friend. Who now looks very fresh and hip and gay. His hair had red streaks, and he had on a cool t-shirt and a pair of fitted jeans with a sexy drawing of a girl which I knew he’d done it himself. I always loved his long limbs. Dee, is his name. A friend from high school. We go way back. I was there when he got his first ‘back way’ experience, when he tried to have a girlfriend, when he was ‘coming out’, and when he was in love with an Italian hairdresser whom has become my hairdresser long since. Dee is my very first honest gay friend. We adore and respect each other’s talents. Our birthdays are only 10 days apart, that’s why I think we get along real well.

We hugged and kissed and chatted for a bit. He said he’s there with his boyfriend who just got in from Dresden. We promised to meet up and talked more. We walked on aimlessly along the aisles until we ran into the funky guy I spotted earlier. He said, “Sweety, meet my friend Nat.” Dee said nudging the Gorgeouses. “He’s a sculptor.” he said to me and introduced me as the talented designer who’s always up to weird things. “What do you do now anyway Nat?” he asked me.

That’s great. Do you have a gay friend? Or gay friends? Do you notice how many of them are dating just an ordinary man with a day job? Almost none. They’re either dating a composer, a song writer, a designer, a hairdresser, a sculptor, a stage manager, a dancer, a painter, a choreographer, a photographer, a coloumnist, a director, or other interesting jobs that are more than just a sitting duck job.

While we women are left with the accountants, the clerks, the politicians, the doctors, the teachers, and hundreds other yawning 9-5 office jobs men whom are to busy caring for what they are doing that they forget about other things. You know, the whole bunch of Not-Reallys. Not really romantic, not really artistic, not really sexy, not really fashionable, not really considerate, not really caring, not really sensitive, NOT REALLY.

And like, how convenient it is being gay? I mean, apart from the aids and the hemorrhoids, I think it’s very convenient being gay. They never seem to stay single for long. Always on a romantic agenda every now and then. If not with the sculptor then the choreographer will surely be ready to sweep them off their feet all over again.

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