Politics: Part One

This is Rommie.  He’s a friend of mine.  He’s been following the site and he wanted to come over and bake with me.  I said yes.  I haven’t seen him since August of last year.  That’s how New York is.  You can be friends with someone, and talk to them online all the time, but NEVER SEE THEM.  I suppose, arguably, that’s how the World is now.  Isn’t that sad?  Or not?  At least, now, we get to chat with people more often.

He only had three hours, so we baked fast.  Banana Bread.  A pie can take 4 or 5 hours.  Banana Bread you can get done in an hour and a half.  He was hosting a party that night, at 11pm.  He came over around 8:30.

He was a charming guest.  Really convivial, and kind.  Coy at the right moments, and forthright at other times.  Really charming.  Did I say he was charming?  He was.  Charming, that is.

HOWEVER.

He didn’t invite me to his party.  He kept mentioning it, but never invited me.  What a dummy, right?

I mean.  I would have sung a song in an apron.  Had he invited me.  Then again.  Maybe it wasn’t an apron only, pie-weirdo type of party.  Who knows?  Maybe it was some cool ass, east village-y, liberal queer type of party.  I don’t fit in at those types of parties, even though you’d expect me to.  I can’t deal with all the jargon.  I’m supposed to know what hetero-normative means, and whether that’s good or bad, depending on context.  No, thanks.

In any case.  Amidst all the baking, and talking about how there was going to be a party, and not inviting me to a party, we started talking about Politics.  Oh.  No.  NO.  Politics?

Aren’t you supposed to be baking sexy pies?

I KNOW! RIGHT?

We did that, too.  We baked sexy pies.  But more than that, we talked about how angry we are:

Him:  This is fun.

Me:  Isn’t it?  You’re really beautiful and charming.

Him:  Thank you.  You’re a good date too.

Me:  Thank you.

Him:  Look at us.

Me:  I know usually gays can’t quite manage to be charming good dates to one another.

Him:  Hahaha.  That’s true.  Why do you think that is?

Me:  Because they talked us into hating ourselves, and therefore, each other.

Him:  WHAT?

Me:  Straight people.  They talked us into hating ourselves.  They didn’t do it on purpose.  It’s not intentional.  But they talked us into feeling ashamed of ourselves and our lives.  That’s why we’re so quick to judge each other.  That’s why it’s hard to have a date with each other.  You look pretty.

Him:  Thank you, so do you.  Really attractive.

Me: No.  It’s just chemistry.  We like each other and it’s chemistry.

Him: No.  You’re cute.  I’m pretty sure.

Me:  I need to learn to take a compliment.  So sure.  Okay.  I’m cute.  But you’re beautiful and I already said that and I’ll shut up now.

Him:  You were talking about Straight people.

Me: Ugh.  I hate them.

Him:  Really?  Do you hate your brothers?

Me: No.

Him:  Do you hate the rest of your straight family?

Me:  No.  I love them.

Him:  Do you hate the rest of your straight comedy friends?

Me: I hate ALL my comedy friends.  Problem is, they’re just like me and and I love them. They’re desperate, and beautiful and flawed and extremely powerful.

Him:  Oh jesus.

Me: Did I mention comics take themselves too seriously?

Him:  Earlier, you did.  So you hate straight people.

Me:  No.  I don’t.  But I hate the society (composed mostly of straight people) that brought me up to be ashamed of myself.  I hate that.  I hate that my gay brothers and sisters pander to a paradigm they KNOW they don’t believe in, just to try to fit in.  I’m tired of wondering if people see me as a good, productive homosexual.

Him:  Rather than one of the other ones?

Me:  Yes, darling.  Exactly.   One of the bad ones.  I’m one of the bad ones.

Him:  Are you?

Me:  Sure.  I’m the fag your mother warned you about.

Him:  But don’t you think people want to accept homosexuality?  Why be a bad boy?

Me:  Do I think people want to accept homosexuality?  ARE YOU CRAZY?  No.  I don’t.  At best they tolerate us.   At worst they’re like Senator McCain – suspicious that we’ll taint their workforce.  NO.  That’s not even true.  Worse case scenario, they crucify us on a barbed wire fence in Wyoming.

Him:  Matthew…

Me:  You’re DAMNED RIGHT MATTHEW.  But one Martyr does not make a cause my friend.  That’s an incident, that’s not a movement.  That’s mostly just a chance for straight people to get on the news and feign surprise and ignorance that there’s that much hatred in the world.

Him:  You’re being really rough on straight people.

Me:  I am.   I’m doing it just for effect.  How’s it wear on me?

Him:  You still look cute.

Me:  You’re still a handsome charmer.  We’re going to kiss again, later I hope?

Him:  We’ll see.

Me:  aldkfja;sdlkfjsadlkfjas;dkfjsd;kfl;dfkljasdflkjfsd;lkjf;laksdf;ldfks;sdalfjfsd;kljfds;l Yes we shall…

 

TO BE CONTINUED, JERKS.

 

One thought on “Politics: Part One

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