I miss man-lovin’ man friends.
How am I supposed to be fabulous without all the wonderful gay men in my life within hugging distance?
There have been a significant number of significant gay men in my life, and quite a few gorgeous lady-loving ladies too. Many of these fabulous folk have become ‘lifers’, friendships forged through strange and varied circumstances that have lasted and flourished over time. People who I count as dear, dear friends even if we haven’t seen each other for 10, or even 15, years. People who make me laugh so hard I snort through my nose.
Perhaps my mis-spent youth, studying ‘Arts’, hanging around theatres, working in hospitality could account for the prolific number of gorgeous, man-hunks, I know. It could just be that I am a filthy-mouthed fag-hag. Whatever the reason – lately, I have been missing them.
Expat’s leave their friends behind. We go months, even years without seeing our favourite people. Expats with young children spend their infrequent trips home juggling jet-lag and family obligations and rarely get to spend quality time with the people they would most like to hang with. So I have not seen some of my favourite gay boys for years. My life here in Laos, though filled with wonderful relationships, is lacking in BGF’s (By which I mean “Best Gay Friends” ). I miss them.
When I grew up it still wasn’t acceptable to be gay. I thought the word ‘homosexual’ was a dirty word until (this is awful to admit) I went to University and met one. The gay men and women I know, for the most part had to fight to be accepted as who they are. Their stories are in turns, heartbreaking, brave, devastating, rewarding and passionate. I am proud that my daughters don’t even yet have the word ‘gay’ in their lexicon yet. They do understand romance (thank you disney movies!!) and they understand LOVE. They know that mummy loves daddy. They know that Uncle R loves Uncle M. They know that Auntie L loves Auntie J. They think it is ‘totally gross’ when people kiss no matter what the gender or orientation of that couple.
I met G through a gay friend. In fact, I met G because a my tall handsome gay friend and my short buxom lady friend both thought he was a bit of alright but were not sure which team he batted for. I gallantly stepped up and 24 hours later was able to confirm both his preference… and his prowess!!!
The three little princesses have the most impressive wardrobes I have ever seen, thanks to the impeccable taste and generosity of their two gay Uncles (French and British couture no less, totally fabulous!). Every little girl should have a big gay uncle, preferably two.
My gay boyfriends are the only men I have ever trusted to tell me what to wear. Granted, over the years, I may have indulged in a few more feathers and sequins than is normally considered safe but I have always known when my bum looked big or my boobs looked brilliant.
Gay men taught me how to cook, how to party until dawn, how to make a cushion into a statement, how to be fiercely loyal and outrageously fierce.
I owe more to some of my gay friends than they will ever know. They have made me laugh when I was drowning in unnecessary tears and made me cry when I was hiding behind empty laughter.
Thank you boys for teaching me that I CAN BE FABULOUS!
… and before I sign off, a moment to acknowledge the current debate in the US Supreme Court. I defer to the wise and wonderful Whoopi Goldberg:
Really, darling, it’s a no-brainer. You know, I understand not everybody is for gay marriage. But if you’re not for gay marriage, don’t marry a gay person.
Thanks for reading. Have a fabulous day.
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