“What’s wrong with me?” cried Celine, a friend and colleague. Moments earlier, she mastered the art of using all the functional muscles on her face to signal that there was a hot, goodlooking male behind me. Drowning in excitement and a deadly sin, she watched the guy behind me like she was ready to mate.
“Yeah, he was behind me in the queue earlier. He’s tall. He smelled really nice.” I told her. “And he’s gay.”
“No, he’s not.” First stage of grief, denial.
“Don’t you sense it?” I added. “Look at their body language, Celine. The other guy is his boyfriend.”
“Really? That‘s his boyfriend?”
I nodded.
“Really?! THAT GUY??! With THAT face?” Second stage of grief, anger.
“You’re mean.”
“Come on, they’re an item? Really?”
Our order was served and she was still observing the two guys. She glued her eyes on them as if waiting for a definitive sign that the hot guy was indeed gay and that the other guy was really his boyfriend. She was watching them like she was orchestrating a grand plan of tearing the two apart in her head. Who could blame her. The guy was hot. It wasn’t long until she was convinced.
Suddenly, she shrieked, “What’s wrong with me? The men that I get attracted to are ALWAYS either cute but taken, or hot but gay.”
“Hot AND gay,” I corrected.
“Hot BUT gay,” she insisted.
“You make it sound like being gay is a negative thing.”
“It is negative for me. I’m a woman!” I acted shocked. Although she was kidding the whole time, she looked genuinely worried about the possibility of all desirable men turning gay in the distant future.
“Well, look on the bright side,” I said. “You can get yourself a gay bestfriend. Seems like every girl has one these days,” I suggested.
“I DON’T NEED A FRIEND!!! I ALREADY HAVE LOTS OF MALE FRIENDS AND THEY’RE ALL GAY!!! LOOK AT YOU, RONNIE, ANDRE! YOU’RE ALL GAY!” Celine shouted. My caps lock don’t do justice to the extreme frustration she exhibited that time.
I just laughed at Celine and went on enjoying my dinner. Eventually, she did the same. We talked about how good and affordable the food was, how we loved that restaurant, and how excited we were that a new branch was opening near our office. We had a few refills of rice and more juicy conversations over dinner.
We talked about her latest crush. He’s in a relationship.
The crush before that, in a relationship, too.
Before that, single. And gay.
Just before we finished dinner, her face turned sour again and it was not because of the food.
“Really?” She asked.
“What?”
“He’s gay?” Apparently, she caught another glimpse of the two guys behind me.
“Yes.”
“Really? That guy?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he has a brother?”
Ooh yes. I bet he’s gay, too.